


Blue Steel Magnolias

by crazydiamondsue



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Based on Steel Magnolias, Bottom Jared Padalecki, Character Death Fix, Christmas, Easter, Friendship, Humor, Illnesses, M/M, Mpreg, No Character Death, Texas, Top Jensen Ackles, Valentine's Day, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-11
Updated: 2020-12-11
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:14:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 36,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27850682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crazydiamondsue/pseuds/crazydiamondsue
Summary: Pivoting around the lively Mark Sheppard's Texas Men of Lathers salon, a tightly-knit band of friends confront laughter, loss, and life's unforeseen heartaches with what they do best: spilling the tea and dropping F-bombs. The spirited diabetic groom-to-be, Jared; his pragmatic fiancé Jensen; his always supportive parents, Jeff and Samantha; Mark's curious assistant, Alexander; the city's curmudgeon, Jimbo Beaver; and the town's former first gentleman, Sterling K. Brown, are the witty Texans who know how to survive life's challenges with their unwavering friendship. But when Jared decides to conceive, things will turn upside down...
Relationships: Jensen Ackles/Jared Padalecki
Comments: 21
Kudos: 80





	1. Blush and Bashful

**Author's Note:**

  * For [whirlpoolsleep](https://archiveofourown.org/users/whirlpoolsleep/gifts).



> This fic is based on the 1989 film "Steel Magnolias." It was inspired by the July 23, 2005 WB All Stars Celebration which Jared and Jensen attended in coordinating pink button-downs. I quipped to my best friend Vinnie that "their colors are Blush and Bashful" in homage to one of our favorite films. I started promising sometime around 2007 that I'd write a J2 Steel Magnolias fic for her. It only took 13 years and the finale to get me here. 
> 
> There will be dialogue lifted from the film script, as well as film dialogue that has been tweaked to fit the character voices. There will be character bleed. There will be "Supernatural" shout-outs.
> 
> While this fic follows the events of the film, it DOES NOT include the film's character death storyline. I just didn't want that post "Carry On," and that storyline is very personal to both the film and Robert Harling's original play, which was based on his sister's death. 
> 
> The mpreg is "just because"; there is no magical impetus. If that bugs you, feel free to X out now.
> 
> I switched the setting from 1980s Louisiana to present day Austin, Texas, because I know Austin better (and Vinnie, Jared, and Jensen are all Texans) and I wanted to update a bit of the film's dated but period-accurate take on women, queer people, and non-white characters.
> 
> Thanks to Cici, Cheryl, and Katie for beta reads.
> 
> This is for Vinnie.

_April 24 th _

_Salt Lick BBQ, Driftwood, Texas_

“…know the Morgan family has been celebrating birthdays, graduations, and Longhorns championships here at the Salt Lick since our boys were tiny. And now we’re here again, with our closest friends and family, to celebrate our oldest son’s wedding.” Jeffrey Dean Morgan cleared his throat aggressively.

A roguishly handsome man in his early 50s with salt and pepper black hair and the silver gleam of a tiny hoop earring in his ear, Jeff flexed his shoulders beneath his black raw silk blazer. His eyes scanned the small group beneath the cedar wood beams and honeysuckle spirals of the outdoor cabana, lighting on a quietly lovely blonde woman in spring green. His wife of 27 years, Samantha.

Jeff cleared his throat again and he reached up with both hands to cling tightly to the mic stand. “Most of y’all know Samantha and I've hovered ‘round Jared like ducks on a June bug since he was born. It’s been harder than it probably should've been, lettin’ him go. Lettin’ him go off to college in Dallas. Lettin’ him grow into the man he is today.” Jeff’s voice trembled and he dropped his head for a moment, taking a deep breath.

In the small group seated at the front table, a beautiful young man in a cream-colored jacket threw his arm around the shaking pink-clad shoulders next to him, pulling the dark-haired man closer to him to press a kiss against his temple.

“It’s been about a year now,” Jeff continued with a smile, “since Jared brought home the best looking man I’ve ever seen outside of my own mirror and said, ‘Daddy, I think this is the one,’ and I thought, well, shit, that was fast! Then come to find out, my Jared, my dimple-faced, honest-to-the-bone firstborn, had been all but shackin’ up with this male model fella for almost two years! When I was still paying for his campus apartment!”

“Oh, come on!” Jared groaned with a laugh over the sound of his father’s chuckles.

“Nah, I’m just givin’ him some hell,” Jeff said with a grin. “Our kids grow up,” he shrugged. “Whether we’re ready for it or not. Jared,” he met the blue-green eyes of his son, “you’ve been a gift to your mom and me.” Jeff watched those eyes fill easily with tears, their tilted corners squeezing tight. “As a wise man once said, ‘holding you, I held everything, for a moment, wasn’t I a king?’”

Jensen cupped his fingers around his mouth. “Sing it!” he hollered.

The crowd laughed and Jeff shook his head ruefully, “Nah, I’ll leave the singing to better folks than me. But I will offer this,” he reached down to the stool next him and picked up his wine glass. “To my beautiful son, Jared Tristan Morgan, and his intended, Jensen Ackles." Raising his glass high, he continued, "May you know the simple joy I’ve known with my Sam, and may your life together fill you with the pride and peace I feel now looking at the two of you. _Salud_!”

Wine glasses clinked and local wines from Hill Country grapes tilted and swirled in the dying sunlight. Sam Morgan beamed at her sons, Jared, Brock, and Colin, her smile for once untinged by worry. Jared Morgan lifted his chin and pressed his lips sweetly to the perfect bow of his fiancé’s mouth. Jared’s grandmother, Sadie Morgan, raised a trembling tissue to her eyes, still the same vivid sea hazel of her grandson’s. Jensen’s parents locked pleasant, if slightly frozen, smiles on the group at large, and his father repeatedly cleared his throat and fidgeted. Jared’s Aunt Ruth leaned over and pinched both grooms’ cheeks while they laughed with the cheesy cliché of it all. And the one non-blood kin member of the family head table, Mark Sheppard, quaffed his Hill Country Mourvédre, then turned to the stiff-lipped Grandmother Ackles in her quivering pearl grey taffeta and grimaced, “FEELINGS!”

“Ah,” Jeff sighed, letting his glass dangle from two fingers. “Now, like I said, y’all know me and the wife and the kids. But I want to introduce the newest member of the family in a really public setting that has just the right awkward flavor. He’s pretty enough to be my daughter, but I want y’all to welcome the man I’m happy to call my newest son, Jensen Ackles. C’mon on up here, bashful.”

Jensen rolled his eyes, straightened his Gucci jacket and gingerly accepted the mic and a side hug from Jeff. He cleared his throat a couple of times. “Hey y’all. Ahhh, I’d cuss Jeff a blue streak, but my grandma’s here.” Light laughter met the admission and Jensen swallowed. “Y’all remember the hurricane that hit Houston couple of years ago now.” He pressed his palm flush against his pale green floral shirtfront. “I’d just graduated from law school, livin’ in Dallas, and I just felt like we needed to do something, you know.” He pulled the mic off the stand and held it close to his mouth, shading his face.

“The partners, of course, threw money at the thing, but that’s not the way my parents raised me. I got together a bunch of my buddies, some from SMU, some I’d known since I was 12 years old. We towed some boats down to the Gulf and joined up with the Cajun Navy.” He laughed lightly. “Now, while I was down there, they paired groups of us with a medical professional. So I’m standing there on a buddy’s pontoon, waders up to my hips and a Cowboys bandana tied around my head, and this human puppy with a Red Cross cooler pinwheels off the dock, headed right for me.” He laughed and a more genuine laugh from the crowd greeted him.

“Now, I’m a pretty big guy,” he said with a broad grin, “and here I am on this little boat in the middle of a fu-frickin’ monsoon headed out into flood waters with this grinning _giant_ in plastered-on scrubs. And I watched this guy, who looked like a big kid, coaxing grandmas and toddlers off of roof-tops with those Go-Go-Gadget arms reaching for them, and they just fell into them like he was their guardian angel.” He looked at Jeff, Sam, and his own stoic parents and shrugged. “And y’all, I just fell. Jared Morgan is the best man I know, and as I’ve gotten to know the rest of the Morgans and the folks here in Austin, well, that’s a family and a community I’m happy I’m going to be a part of.”

He glanced around the canopied courtyard, from the winery, to the live band, to the smoke billowing out of the open barbecue pit. “And not just because when I asked what we were doing for the Rehearsal Dinner, Jared and Jeff just said, ‘brisket.’" An appreciative laugh came from the mostly Texan crowd. "I love you so much, Jared Morgan. My guardian angel. I can’t wait to make a home with you, start a family with you, and give you something to blush about every day.”

Jared’s face bloomed with color, his lips lifted in a happy grin as he clapped, welcoming Jensen back to their table.

Jensen settled himself, his hand dropping immediately to Jared’s thigh, the sleeve of his four thousand dollar suit pairing perfectly with Jared’s dark wash $80.00 jeans. He cleared his throat, tension easing from the corners of his full lips as the crowd’s attention shifted to the heaped family platters making their way to the tables. “Okay, that’s done. What’s next?”

Jared looked at him in surprise, his lips already gleaming with a vinegar-brown sugar glaze. “Brisket,” he said around a mouthful of burnt ends.

<<<<<<<<<<

“…it’s the denseness of this particular hard strain of Live Oak that gives the smoke its depth and durability, and the vigor and piquancy of the pecan shells that build the flavor. And the 32 different spices, brought to Texas by the Old 300 families, which bonds both of those together in a marriage that has made this barbecue something unique to Austin for over 50 years. May those same qualities of depth and durability, of vigor and flavor, and the melding traditions of Texas’s great history be present every day in the lives of Jared and Jensen as they begin this journey together,” Pastor Suarez offered in blessing.

“Hey,” Jared said, his lips pressed damp and open against Jensen’s ear, “you wanna get out of here?”

“Shush,” Jensen muttered. “I wanna see how he works the bone bowls and the wet-naps into the blessing.”

“ _Jensen_.”

Jensen lifted an eyebrow, surprised at the intensity in Jared’s voice. He glanced around at the crowd of family and friends, ties off and collars open in the heat of the spring evening, voices rising on the air with the expansiveness of good wine and better food. “You wanna leave before the cobbler and pecan pie? _You_?”

Jared stood, tugging at Jensen’s sleeve. “C’mon,” he said, tilting his head toward the parking lot. Jensen stood and nodded toward his own parents, who were embroiled in a conversation with Jared’s Aunt Ruth about local flora, and then gave a casual wave to Jeff who quirked a brow at them as they ducked beneath the honeysuckle and walked out into the warm evening air.

Jared walked quickly toward Jensen’s Audi, his stride forcing Jensen to burst into a short jog. “Hey, when you said ‘get out of here,’ you mean really out, like leave-leave?”

Jared nodded shortly and stood, fingers and flexing and knees juddering with nerves next to the passenger seat as Jensen unlocked the convertible. They slid their seatbelts up, and Jensen turned off the A/C as he took a good look at Jared. Pale, lips taut, his gaze focused out the window to the road back to town. “Hey man, what’s up?” He reached quickly toward his inner jacket pocket. “Oh, shit, you need your insulin? I thought you…”

Jared shook his head and flipped his hair out of his eyes. “No,” he said shortly and then a softer, “no,” as he covered Jensen’s hand, which was still feeling around inside his jacket. Jared gave him a brief but genuine smile. “No, I’m fine. I just needed to get out of there…get away from all that for a bit. Too much, you know?”

Jensen nodded, his brow creased with concern. “Yeah, I get that. Usually more me than you, but I get that. You, uh, you realize that this little shindig is bush league compared to the hoo-rah of the wedding tomorrow, right?”

Jared bit his lip, his hair blowing back in the soft wind as Jensen guided the Audi onto TX-1 back toward Austin. “Yeah, yeah. You know I’m a big cry baby. Things just got a little emotional tonight.”

Jensen reached over and took Jared’s hand, lacing their fingers and resting their joined hands on this thigh with a squeeze. “Wait till you see how emotional they get _tomorrow_ night.”

Jared snorted a laugh and then chuckled deeper in his chest, his tongue darting out to tap against his upper lip as he laughed. “Hah-hah, Jensen Ackles, are you alluding to our wedding night? Will there be double entendres?”

Jensen nodded, his engagement ring flashing on his left hand as he steered around traffic. “After we officially, legally consummate our love, I am going to go out bare-assed and King of World on that hotel balcony and let everybody, _everybody_ , in the great state of Texas, know that I’ve locked all _this_ down.” He lifted Jared’s hand to lips, his eyes meeting Jared’s briefly with a smirking but heated flare before he turned his attention back to the road.

Jared was quiet the rest of the drive, but a small smile never left his lips.

<<<<<<

_April 24 th, 7:00 p.m._

_Lady Bird Lake, Austin, TX_

“ _This_ is why you made me leave before pie?” Jensen stood on the small dock looking down at a hesitantly smiling Jared who reached up with one hand. “Jared, you have no idea how much this suit cost, do you?”

Jared shrugged, his body lanky and easy in his black pullover and jeans. “Well, you got it at Neiman Marcus, so probably as much as my first car. C’mon, Jensen. You know you wanna.”

Jensen watched Jared’s dark hair flutter in the chilling breeze over Lady Bird Lake, the last yellow orange tints of sunset setting the crown of his head alight. He looked like a bronzed young god…who happened to be standing in a paddleboat shaped like a giant white swan.

“Is this like a bucket list thing?” Jensen finally sputtered.

“So…ah…” the guy from Capitol Cruises shifted awkwardly from one foot to another behind Jensen. “Are you guys going, or…”

“Yeah. Yes,” Jared said firmly as he gripped Jensen’s wrist and tugged. Jensen leapt lightly into the swan, swiped the seat with his palm and then dropped down next to Jared, who immediately started peddling.

“Dude,” Jensen muttered. “If I lose my Rolex in this lake, I _will_ kill you”

Jared paddled them to the center of the reservoir, and then turned the swan so that its neck arched out toward the Austin skyline, the lights of the Austonian illuminating the darkened sky.

“Okay,” Jensen said with a sigh, “yes, it’s pretty. Very romantic. I get it. I just wish I’d been clued in.” He waited a beat and then turned and looked at his fiancé. Jared sat forward on the bench seat. His elbows rested on his knees and his hands pushed into his hair as he stared down into the bottom of the paddleboat. Stilled, the swan drifted and Jensen swallowed.

“Jared?”

“Yeah,” Jared’s voice was tiny, lost in the breadth of his chest and the timbre of his natural voice. “I, um, I’ve been practicing versions of this for the past couple of weeks, since you first got here from Dallas. And, you know, sometimes I just erased the whole thing, you know? Gave it up as unnecessary. But then tonight, with your speech and then the blessing, I just can’t.” He lifted his head, his eyes puffy with unshed tears.

“Hey, hey, hey, what,” Jensen said, reaching for Jared.

“Just let me get this out, please? Please?” Jared’s throat worked and then he said, “I love you. I know you know that. I love you so much. And I want to share my family with you. I know how hard it’s been, with your mom and dad really never accepting you coming out, and how distant they’ve been, even though they agreed to come to the wedding ‘because it’s 2020.’ And I know it was lonely being an only child, and that you fitting into my family the way you do has just been the cherry on the top of our super-hot fudge sundae. But…I can’t, you know.”  
  
Jensen sat tensed, his jaw flexing as the stared at Jared across the expanse of a fiberglass swan. “You can’t what?”

Jared fisted his hands on his thighs and sat up straight. “I can’t give you children. Oh, I can get pregnant, I mean, I learned that during my physicals during puberty, but I _can’t..._ no, I _shouldn’t_ have them. All of my specialists have said that a high risk pregnancy like that would be too hard on my endocrine system, and I could end up on dialysis, or even…” his voice trailed off.

Jensen bit his lips furiously. “So this is a conversation we should have had _before_ the day before our wedding,” he said, his voice tight. “Jared, with the incredibly small number of cis-men who can carry a baby, I never imagined I’d marry one, and I never meant by ‘starting a family’ that I was planning to knock you up at the first opportunity. I meant sharing your family. Maybe adopting kids at some point. Someday…someday way down the line when you don’t collect comic books anymore.”

Jared huffed a laugh and then shook his head. “No, Jensen, you don't get to pretty boy mug your way out of this. I love you, I really, _really_ love you. But I can’t marry you. I can’t take that away from you. You got dealt a shit family, and you deserve to have a family of your own, pass those green eyes and that smile down. With someone who probably won’t end up being a financial burden or an emotional one by the time he’s 50.”

“You…you can’t marry me?” Jensen’s hand lashed out, fingers gripping Jared’s knee and digging in. “You can’t marry me, and you decided to bring me out on a moonlit cruise in a fucking swan to tell me that? Because somehow you thought I was marrying you for your birthin’ hips and not because you’re the best thing in my life? What the hell is wrong with you?”

“I’m fucked up, okay?” Jared snapped. “I’ve been chased around my whole life by a team of doctors, and my overly concerned Mama and Daddy, and I can’t sit here and pretend anymore that I can give you a normal, happy life with a picket fence and 2.5 kids.”

“First of all,” Jensen said, his eyes steady on Jared’s as a flotilla of drunken coeds floated past them, “I don’t want a fucking picket fence. I’m Texan; I want an open range leading to a winding driveway that leads to a dirt road that you turn onto off the paved road. Secondly, my job as your husband is to take care of you. Like Jeff takes care of Sam, and like they’ve always done for you. You, and whatever dogs or pygmy goats or rodents, or, yes, even kids we decide to adopt." Jensen's eyes snapped fire and his voice grew hoarse and fierce. "You’re mine, Jared Morgan, and even if I didn’t love you to the very depth of my soul, I wouldn’t let you jilt me in a fucking swan boat!”

“So,” Jared said slowly. “You really don’t care? If it’s just you and me? If I get sick someday? If you end up stuck with me after Mama and Daddy are gone?”

Jensen stared at him for second and then smacked Jared in the back of the head. “No, you stupid, too-smart motherfucker. Because I. Love. You. Now, get that bottle of champagne out of the swan’s fanny pack and pour me a plastic cup of it before I push you out of this boat. Happy Wedding Eve. Asshole.”  
  
Jared grinned as he dug in the canvas pocket at his feet. “So…you’ll meet me tomorrow? First Presbyterian? I’ll be the one in white, coming down the aisle to _Single Ladies_.”

Jensen grabbed Jared’s chin and pulled him in for a deep kiss. “Yes,” he sighed against Jared’s lips. “So stop pissing me off before I put a ring on it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Salt Lick BBQ is about 30 minutes outside of Austin, and about 20 minutes from Family Business Beer Company. It's a favorite of the Padaleckis, and also my fam -- I go every time I go to Austin. They added a winery a few years ago. The blackberry cobbler is to die for.
> 
> "Holding you, I held everything. For a moment, wasn't I a king" is a lyric from "The Dance" by Garth Brooks. Jensen has quoted the song often.
> 
> Jared's favorite food is brisket, and Vinnie and I would never turn down good Tex BBQ.  
> Mark's "Feelings!" line is from SPN 9x21.
> 
> Capitol Cruises operates Congress Street bat cruises, swan paddleboats, sunset cruises, kayaks, etc, that offer a gorgeous view of the Austin skyline.
> 
> I experienced 15 years of infertility before attending my first SPN convention in 2007. I conceived 2 weeks after the con, and I have joked for years that it was holding "Psychic" Sam Winchester's hand when I met Jared in the auto line. I flavored a lot of the canon "Steel Magnolias" pregnancy storyline with my experience.


	2. Men of Lathers

_April 25 th _

_Morgan Home – Woodview Ct, Westlake Hills, TX_

_Men of Lathers Salon – Winstead Lane, Austin, TX_

“Good morning!”

Alexander started, turning around to see a mail carrier standing behind him. The mail carrier’s smile was open and friendly as he took in Alexander from the top of his bubblegum pink faux hawk to his leather jacket, green skinny jeans, and down to his scuffed Converse.

“Um, good morning,” Alexander answered. He waited for the mail carrier to ask, “You lost?” or “Think you’re in the wrong neighborhood, son,” but the older man just smiled and dropped a few mailers into a mailbox shaped like an eagle in flight.

“Have a good day,” the mail carrier nodded, and began to get back into his mail cart.

“Um, sir?” Alexander asked. “Could you tell me if I’m close to the Men of Lathers? It’s a salon.” He looked around him at the glistening green lawns, topiaries, and statuary all framing enormous houses of modern glass, Spanish Colonial columns, or Texas modern. “This…doesn’t look like somewhere you’d find a hair salon.”

The mail carrier chuckled. “Well…that’s because Men of Lathers is owned by the President of the HOA around these parts, and he has differing views on zoning. Yeah, you’re headed the right way. When you get to the end of Woodview Court, it’s gonna circle around on itself and you’ll see Winstead Lane branch off to the left. You stay on Winstead Lane and you’ll come to a big white house that’s got what looks like a miniature house in the backyard, behind the pool. That’s Men of Lathers. If you get to the golf course, you’ve gone too far. But you can’t miss it.”

“Thank you,” Alexander nodded. “All of these houses are a lot farther apart than I thought they’d be.”

“Welcome to Texas,” the mail carrier smiled as he started his cart. “Oh, by the way, you can keep walking in the middle of the street, but we do have sidewalks here. Some of these kids on bikes are plumb crazy.”

Alexander moved carefully to the sparkling white sidewalk. As he neared the end of Woodview, he saw an enormous home with an exterior of yellow sandstone. It was so golden, it almost glowed in the April sunshine. As Alexander stood there, mesmerized, the trees above him exploded.

 _CRACK! BOOM! CRACK!_

“Yeah! Get out of there, you fuckers!” a man’s deep voice growled. _BOOM!_ “Keep waving those flags, Colin! Brock, get over here and give me some backup!”

Alexander realized that the golden house swarmed with activity. Men and women in work clothes were hanging pink floral bowers above every door and window. Delivery vans had people walking to and fro with wine glasses, linen, and enormous bakery boxes.

And above all of the activity: _CRACK! BOOM! CRACK!_

“Yeah, you sons-a-bitches! Get out of my trees!”

Flights of northern mockingbirds, swallows, and sparrows winged high above Alexander’s head, causing him to duck even though he knew they were nowhere near him. As his eyes followed their path, he saw a small black sign across the way and just around the bend, glittering with gold lettering: _Men of Lathers_.

<<<<<<<<

“Mama! Mama! Mama! This self-tanner is drying way too dark. Practically Paradise, my ass. Looks like I’m trying to Ariana Grande myself into ‘exotic.’” Jared ran lightly down the steps in his pajama bottoms, his hair wrapped up in a towel turban. He waved his browning hands to get his mother’s attention.

Samantha Morgan turned her attention away from signing the receipt for the wedding cakes. “Oh, I’m sure I have something that will cover it, Jared,” she said, blowing her blonde curls out of her eyes. “Oh! We can just puff you down in baby powder – that’s what we did when I was in high school.”

Jared stopped still in the midst of deliverymen carrying china and crystal, florists with boxes of baby’s breath and magnolias, and servers setting out trays. “BABY POWDER!” he gasped at his mother. “Do you know what talc could do my pores? Not to mention if it gets in my _hair_? Mama, it has to be delicate.”  
  
Sam finished seeing the bakery assistant off and scrubbed her palms over her face. “Okay, okay, if I don’t have a non-talc powder, I’ll send your brothers to Walgreens to get something delicate for your skin.”

Jared gritted his teeth. “Great idea, Mama, I’d love to see what Brock and Colin would pick.”

Sam skirted a fleet of deliverymen with kegs and snapped her fingers in inspiration. “Coconut oil! Skin too dry? Coconut oil. Skin too delicate? Coconut oil! Skin looks like you’re accidentally appropriating brown-face? Coconut oil!”

Jared snickered and Samantha sagged in relief. “Okay, sweetie, go back up stairs and get in the shower and exfoliate and I’ll get you some—”

Jared gasped again. “But I’ve already conditioned my hair! I can’t dry it out today!”

Samantha’s attention diverted to the crates of champagne glasses lined up on her kitchen island. “What the hell? Deliveryman! Somebody stop that truck! The glasses---”

Her middle son, sixteen-year-old Brock, zipped in from one of the French doors, grabbed a handful ice from one of the keg buckets and dropped it down the back of his mother’s shirt before grabbing several packs of fireworks and darting back outside.

Samantha screamed. “Don’t put ice down my back!” She began to jump in place, trying to dislodge the ice from her tank top and sports bra.

Jared crossed his arms over his bare chest and looked at his mother coolly. “You should have abandoned him at birth.”

“Jared, Jared, see if you can get this ice out. Jared!”

“Mama, my palms are turning orange.” Jared swept back up the curving staircase, his towel turban quivering with indignation.

“Jared!” Samantha sputtered.  
  
“Ma’am?” The deliveryman from the catering rental stood restlessly by the kitchen door.

“Will you look at those, please?” Samantha said as she gestured to the crates of glasses. As he stared at the separated stems and flutes in confusion, Samantha snatched up her cell phone and pressed redial.

“DJ? All the champagne glasses are broken. Help!” She brushed her hair out of her eyes and as she listened to their wedding planner’s calm voice.

 _CRACK! BOOM! CRACK!_

Samantha walked to the kitchen door and called lightly over the sound of gunfire, hammering, and the tinkle of broken crystal. “Jeff! Sweetheart? I’m on the phone!” She glanced apologetically at the florists, caterers, and servers.

 _CRACK! BOOM! CRACK!_

“STOP THAT, YOU SON-OF-A-BITCH, I CAN’T HEAR MYSELF THINK!” Samantha uncovered the microphone on the cell. “I’m sorry, DJ, you were saying?”

<<<<<<<<

Alexander bounced lightly on his feet and then took a deep breath before lifting a hand to press the doorbell. Suddenly the morning noises of birdsong, gunfire, and barking dogs were overridden by a loud blast of music from the tiny house behind the big house.

_Day after day it reappears_

_Night after night my heartbeat shows the fear_

_Ghosts appear and fade away_

_Alone between the sheets_

_Only brings exasperation_

_It's time to walk the streets_

_Smell the desperation_

_At least there's pretty lights_

_And though there's little variation_

_It nullifies the night from overkill_

Alexander stood frozen on the small portico as the music blasted and the unmistakable scent of marijuana floated out of the back of the house.  
  
“LUCK!” an exasperated British voice spat. “Turn off that caterwauling! And get in here and finish dyeing these Easter eggs!”

A deeper, Texas-accented voice answered back. “Ran out of stuff.”

“Well, that’s why God invented the Tar-zhey!” the British voice answered back sharply.

The deep-timbered voice answered, considering, “I don’t think God invented Target.” There was a moment of silence as the music snapped off, and then the deep-voice sighed, “Yes sir, I live to serve!”

“Better to serve in my kitchen than rule in the hell I would make your life!” came the British voice. His voice softened, cajoling. “If the eggs aren’t at the church by noon, they don’t get hidden. Are you listening to me, Luc? Thank you, Luc.”

A door slammed. A truck engine rumbled to life. The gunfire and bird squawking continued, unabated, and Alexander realized he was still just standing there on the portico and he was now officially three minutes late.

Alexander rang the doorbell firmly and called, “Mr. Sheppard?”

The frosted door swung open and a man of middle age, medium high and build, average attractiveness, and absolutely wicked demeanor stood before him.

Alexander pasted on a smile. “Hi! Alexander Calvert.”

“You are Alexander?” Mr. Sheppard’s eyes raked him in a thorough but somehow completely non-lascivious sweep. “Oh, you delicious thing! Come on in. _Love_ the retro glasses.” Mr. Sheppard leaned past Alexander as the truck stopped at the stop sign. “Pick up my green tux at the cleaners!” He received a languid wave in response and seemed satisfied.

Alexander followed hesitantly into a large, circular room. “Am I interrupting something?”

Mr. Sheppard rolled his eyes. “No, I’m just screaming at my lover, I can do that any time. Please, call me Mark. That was my partner, also called Mark. I’m Sheppard, he’s Pellegrino. To keep things simple I call him Luc. Well, it started out as Lucifer, the little devil, but we got looks at the grocery store. Then he became Luce, which he hated, and then eventually Luc, pronounced ‘luck’ because he’s both my lucky charm and my cross to bear.” "  
  
He dropped into the closest black leather salon chair and pushed a silver cart filled with a coordinated set of brushes, combs, scissors, and trimmers, all black, all monogrammed with MoL, toward Alexander. He spread his hands expansively. “Well? Let’s see whatcha got.”

<<<<<<<<

  
Samantha stood at her grandmother’s buffet, carefully arranging the silver chafing dishes, platters, and cloches that she and Jared had polished earlier in the week. 

“ _Mama_!”

Samantha’s back jerked and she turned slowly. “Yes, son?”

Jared, now dressed in jeans and a Southern Methodist t-shirt but still barefoot and towel turbaned, held out a brown paper bag and shook it at her frantically. “Look what was in the hall closet. _Rubbers_. Lots of ‘em. Glow-in-the-dark, tie-dye, flavored, textured, Magnum, Enormex, Pee-Wee!!! Colin said Brock is going to cover the honeymoon getaway car with these. I promised Jensen NO WRESTLING today –”

Samantha bit her lip and shook slightly.

“PLEASE STOP THEM!”

Samantha swallowed her laughter. “Please keep your voice down! There are cousins staying here who don’t know how tacky we are.” She leaned out of the open French doors. “Colin! Brock! Boys, I wanna talk to you!” Both boys looked up from where they were duct-taping fireworks to arrows. “BROCK, don’t you decorate your brother’s car with condoms! It’s _tacky_!”

_CRACK! BOOM! CRACK!_

Samantha sagged against the doorframe. “If he’s trying to drive me crazy, it’s too late. There must be a better way to get rid of those birds.”

Jared tossed the paper bag of condoms into an antique breakfront by the bay windows. “We could cut down all our trees. Salt and burn the earth.” He looked at his mother pointedly. “You’re the one who told him to get rid of them!”

Samantha dropped into an empty dining room chair. “I had no idea he would be a one man NRA and piss off the whole neighborhood!”

Jared sauntered toward the staircase with all the confidence of a bride on her special day. “The neighborhood would be a whole lot more pissed off if they got covered in bird shit at my reception.”

Sam cast a beleaguered eye at the workers still milling around the living room and dining room. “Pretty talk. Do you have to be so crude?” 

Jared wiggled slightly less tanned fingers at his mother as he jogged up the staircase. “You know I like the big boy words.”

<<<<<<<<

Alexander gave a final pass over Mark’s pompadour, working in the last of the Suavacito Firme Clay, and then spritzed it with a light hold spray and stood back. His arm quivered from his too firm grip on the paddle brush.

“Ooookay,” Mark’s eyebrows rose at the centered pompadour, the sides even, but the look quite a bit fuller and more youthful than he usually attempted.

Alexander swallowed. “It’s a little puffier than I normally do, but I’m nervous.”

Mark shook his head, working some of the height down with his fingertips. “Oh, I’m not worried about that. I usually wrap my entire head in a silk turban when I go to bed, and it gets pretty smooshed down in that process anyway.”

Alexander stepped back, allowing Mark to reach for a hand mirror to see the back. “At my trade school? I was number one when it came to balayage and fantasy colors. I did my own.” Alexander leaned forward, allowing Mark to see the depth and evenness of the deep pink bubblegum shade of his hair.

Mark quirked an eyebrow. While his clientele tended to prefer subtle highlights or perhaps a silver toner, having a walking advertisement for more youthful trends was certainly not a bad thing. “Really?” he murmured. He scrutinized Alexander again. “That’s good. I can usually spot a Kool-Aid Job at twenty paces.” He turned back to Station One and set the hand mirror on its shelf. “Your technique is good. I think your form and content will improve with time. So…you’ve just landed yourself in servitude.”

Alexander blinked rapidly. “A job?”

Mark laughed, walking to the door. “A job! A career! A regrettable alliance! But no time for thanks this morning, love.” He opened the door and walked onto the portico, squinting in the sunshine. “We’re going to be busier than the devil in a high wind.” He looked back at Alexander and said with emphasis, “The Morgan-Ackles wedding is at 2:00 p.m. today. We have both grooms, the hosting father-of-the-groom, _and_ two local notorieties, all before teatime.”

Alexander glanced down at Mark’s slim-cut, all black jacket and slacks and winced. “Oh, you’ve got tiny little fuzzies from the cape all over you!” Alexander dusted off one of the puffballs and looked at it quizzically.

Mark shrugged, straightening his collar and cuffs. “Don’t worry yourself, lambling, there’s so much static electricity in this spot, I pick up everything but boys and money.” His eyes narrowed as a silver Audi convertible made a sharp turn toward them. “And yet here comes both!”

Alexander stared at the handsome, tanned faces he spotted in the little silver sports car coming ever so much closer. “Wait…did you say both grooms? So…two _really, really_ important styling appointments?”

Mark tipped him a wink. “Never underestimate the King of Westlake Hills, darling. I know a lot of swell tricks. It’s simple really. I have a strict philosophy that I have stuck to for longer than you’ve been alive: there’s no such thing as natural hotness.”

Alexander tilted his head and repeated fervently, “There is no such thing as natural hotness.”

“Except for this motherfucker,” Mark muttered, reaching out to take Jensen’s hand. “Hello, boys.” He waved them toward the back of the house. “Go on in, go on in, Luc has champagne for you in the sunroom. And as always, there’s no sex in the champagne room. And I mean that, Jared Tristan Morgan, today there will be _no_ sex in the champagne room.” He looked back at Alexander. “Ahem, fallout from a New Years ‘do Luc and I hosted last year.”

Alexander looked nervously at the two broad backs retreating behind the patio gate. “So, um, we’re not going to start on…” he waved his hands after Jensen and Jared. 

“Mmm?” Mark murmured, and then shook his head with moue of exasperation. “Oh, no, no, we’re letting those two get whatever shenanigans they have in their system out before our esteemed trio arrive.” Mark looked back over Winstead Lane, scanning for Jeff’s truck or Sterling’s Bentley.

He glanced back at Alex. “So, just arrived in town, are we?” 

“Yeah, I’m brand new. Just a few weeks.” Alexander swallowed hard.

Mark quirked an eyebrow. “It must be exciting to be new in town. Well, depending on where one comes from, I suppose.” He turned more fully to face Alexander. “Austin is the Weird City, just not the terribly manicured part of it that you’re standing in.” He waved his hand to encompass the marble, magnolias, and magnitude on all sides. “ _I’m_ obviously originally from London, although thanks to 15 years in Texas and 10 years with Luc, I’ve developed an accent our young Master Jared refers to Yee-Haw Posh. But let’s hear all about _you_ , dove.”

“There’s nothing to tell,” Alexander answered in a stilted voice. “I live here, I have a job now.”

Mark glanced around the elegant drive at the rear of his property, currently filled by the Audi, a well-worn Range Rover, and a bright yellow Corvette. “Well, you must live nearby, at least within walking distance – I don’t see an unfamiliar car.” He poked his tongue into his cheek. “And forgive me, dumpling, but I don’t believe a junior stylist is setting up house in _these_ tony abodes.”

Alexander shifted restlessly. “I don’t have a car. I’ve been staying across the lake at Connell’s B&B.”

Mark blinked. “Oh, that _is_ a bit of a jog. **_Ruth Connell_**. Now, _there’s_ a story for you. She is a troubled, twisted soul.” His eyes widened as he took Alexander’s arm, leading him down to the lawn. “Her whole life has been an experiment in terror. Conceived her only son at some sort of hippie commune in the 70s, never knew the father, then her son was killed in Desert Storm. I must say, when it comes to suffering, she’s right up there with Britney Spears.”

A gaily-honking black Bentley pulled up into the drive. 

Mark waved cheerfully as an incredibly attractive and immaculately dressed black man exited the gleaming car. 

“Sterling!” Mark said warmly. “Alexander, I’d like to introduce you to the former First Gentleman of Austin, Mr. Brown. Sterling, I’d like you meet my new assistant stylist, Alexander.” 

Sterling handed two large crates of dyed Easter eggs to Mark and took Alexander’s hands. “Sterling K. Brown, good to meet you, son.” 

Mark rolled his eyes and held the freshly dyed eggs away from his fresh smock. “ _Sigh_. I just introduced you, you silly, silly man. Always with the K!” He looked at Alexander. “Don’t be impressed – it stands for Kelby.” 

Sterling shook out an immaculate sapphire blue blazer. “I apologize for my disarray. I’ve just been to the dedication of the new Kind Clinic.” He put his hand on Alexander’s shoulder, giving him the wattage of his full attention. “That’s new expansion of sexual health services, STI and HIV testing, and gender affirming care to Central Texans –”

“And how _did_ your daily dose of noblesse oblige go?”

“Splendidly,” Sterling said pointedly. “Except, oh,” he held a hand up to his lips in mock dismay. “Sebastian Roche-Lehne got hit with the champagne cork when it rebounded off the siding. It was fabulous.” 

Mark turned as Sterling held the door open for him. “Oh, dear. Was he terribly hurt?” 

“I doubt it,” Sterling drawled, “he got hit in the head.” He tipped his head toward Alexander again. “Sebastian Roche-Lehne is the _current_ mayor’s spouse. We hate him.” 

“They just named the new Trans Center after Sterling’s late wife, and this town is so proud of her,” Mark said as he carried the eggs through the salon and into parts unknown. 

Alexander smiled shyly. “Oh, that’s rather lovely.” 

“ _Lovely_ ,” Sterling repeated. “Oh, I like this one, Mark.” 

Mark walked back into the salon, drying his hands. “Hands off, I’ve barely taken him out of his bubble wrap. Alexander, my pet, there are some capes just back from the dry cleaners, would you mind shaking those out and setting them up at the stations, please?” 

“Sure.” Alexander headed off in the direction Mark pointed, a small storage room just beyond the main salon. 

“Sweet boy,” Sterling said as he settled into one of the leather chairs. “Where’d _you_ find someone that wide-eyed and devoid of cynicism?” 

Mark paused in arranging brushes, pomades, and creams. “The trade school, of all things! I called up and told them to send me a warm body, and Alexander was their best and brightest.” He leaned toward Sterling conspiratorially. “ _And_ I think there’s a story there. Although, you know me: I like the idea of hiring someone with a past.” 

Sterling stretched out, fiddling with the massage buttons on the chair. “Mark, please, he can’t be more than 18. He hasn’t had time to have a past.”

“Oh, please yourself, Sterling,” Mark huffed. “This is the millennium! If you can set up an Instagram account, you can have a past.” 

Sterling closed his eyes as Mark moved behind him and began massaging Sweet Almond Oil into his hair and scalp. He sighed with pleasure and the said ruefully, “Well, I guess you’ll find out how much of a past if Jensen or Jared discover him on PornHub. And speaking of Jensen and Jared, where ARE our nuptial couple?” 

“I’ve had Luc ply them with weak champagne and lots of carbs in the sunroom until I’m ready for them. I know what type of devilry those two get up to unsupervised and full of adrenaline.” 

Sterling nodded in agreement. “Jared Morgan is the antichrist and Jensen Ackles is the White Horse he rides in on. I swear, I’ve never found a pairing more suited, more precious, or more terrifying.” 

_CRACK! BOOM! CRACK!_

Sterling groaned; his salon mellow shattered. “And as for Jared’s father! I don’t know how Sam puts up with that.” 

Mark moved to look out the door. “Or why he’s ‘Yosemite Sam’ on _my_ lawn – Luc keeps our birds under control.”

Jeff entered the salon not ten seconds later, smelling warm and male, and dropped his handgun next to the waxing station, much to the shock of Alexander who had to ease past him with a squeak. 

“Jeffrey Dean Morgan,” Mark began, “I realize you are a born and bred Texan, but there’s no need to shoot off guns in residential—” 

“Can’t talk now, my coffee’s kicking in.” Jeff slammed into the bathroom and began to release urine with an audible sigh. 

Alexander stood blinking, a swathe of silver capes draped over his arms. “Who was _that_?” 

Sterling smirked. “That serious hunk of man was Jared’s Daddy – father of the groom.” 

Alexander nodded seriously. “He looks like a Daddy.” 

“Is my son already here?” Jeff yelled from the restroom. 

“Jeff, please,” Mark sighed. “I’ll talk to you when you know longer feel the need to yell over your bodily eliminations.” 

Jeff exited the restroom, buckling his belt one-handed while he ran the other through his hair. “I hollered for him for 10 minutes that he was going to be late for his own damn wedding, and then one of the florists told me he saw a long-haired boy shimmy down the drainpipe and into an Audi convertible driven by a ‘very pretty young man.’” Jeff thumped down into the vacant seat next to Sterling and flashed him a grin. 

“Yes, the young masters Morgan and Ackles are here,” Mark said as he handed Jeff a bottle of water. “And shockingly quiet, so either they’re displaying an uncharacteristic amount of decorum and convention on their wedding day, or they’re fucking in my new outdoor garden shower.” 

Jeff rose to his full six feet plus and planted his boots, bellowing, “JARED! JENSEN!” 

A few moments later, Jared and Jensen strolled into the room, hand in hand. Jared still retained his towel turban, but had swapped his jeans and t-shirt for one of Mark’s silk kimonos. Jensen, on the other hand, was fully turned out in a soft grey shawl-neck sweater and a pair of pinstripe slacks. 

Mark threw up his hands. “Of course, Jared’s naked and Jensen’s hair is already done.” 

Jensen took a cautious step back, hands raised in surrender. “I’m just here for moral support and to keep Jared on time.” 

Mark pointed at Jared and then at the open chair. “ _Sit_. I’ve already put conditioner on Sterling, so I’ll work on you and…”

Mark’s eyes roamed the room for Alexander, finding him huddled next to the manicure chairs.

“Jeff, if you’ll come over to Alexander’s station, we’ll let him get started on that…well what is that, dear?” He eyed the black scruff covering Jeff’s lower face. “Crack of midnight shadow? Alexander, you should start heating towels now to soften that Viking growth on his chin.” 

Jeff re-settled himself in the chair Mark directed. “I shaved _yesterday_ ,” he groused. 

Mark nodded toward a laptop on the back counter. “Alexander, his coiffure file is on the database under Morgan, Jeffrey Dammit.” 

“Oh, I don’t know! Today is a very special day and my work tends to be too puffy when I’m nervous,” Alexander fluttered helplessly next to Jeff who just looked back at him with a lazy grin. 

“It’s okay,” Jared snickered as Mark brushed out his shoulder length hair. “Just give him the full Johnny Bravo.” 

Alexander looked helplessly at Jeff. “Does your shirt have to go over your head?” 

Jeff settled back into the butter soft leather of the chair and let his legs sprawl open. “Honey, I’m wearing a tuxedo. You just come over here and put your hands in it and it’ll do what you want it to do.” 

“Don’t be scared,” Jared said as Alexander tentatively began shaping a hot damp towel over Jeff’s face. “He’s the only straight person in here. And yet still the one most likely to flirt with the new kid on his first day.” 

Mark waved at Alexander imperiously. “Just get over there and bang some hair!” 

Jensen took a seat on a small ottoman at Jared’s feet and began to carefully if inexpertly paint Jared’s toenails a deep pink. Mark brushed Jared’s hair back from his hairline with smooth, deep strokes and Jared moaned happily. 

Mark paused. “Jared, darling, exactly how many spray tan nozzles were on you today?” 

Jared sat up, his kitten contentment gone. “I knew it! I _knew_ it! Mama said the coconut oil would work, but I _knew_ I looked tanorexic!” 

Jensen looked up with a scowl. “Goddamnit, Mark, I just got him calmed down!” 

Sterling cleared his throat. “Jensen, why don’t you let Mark take care of Jared, and you tell us about the wedding ceremony plans.” 

Alexander beamed from where he was smoothly painting shaving cream over Jeff’s face. “Oh, yes, please! I never thought my first day at work would be a wedding, especially with both grooms! I’d love to hear all about it.” 

“Hey, I’m just here for a manicure touch up,” Jensen said. “I can do my own hair. Jared’s the one who needs the Dyson Supersonic Hair Dryer.” 

“The wedding, Jensen,” Mark said patiently. 

Jensen bent back to Jared’s feet and said, “Well, we’re both from Texas, so we didn’t want to get married in a barn with a ceremony that used the word rustic in _any_ connotation. And we _definitely_ didn’t want to get married at a venue with ‘antebellum’ or ‘plantation’ in the name. And we didn’t want to get married on a beach or at an arboretum or in a hotel…”

“So no-fucking-where in Texas,” Jeff growled from beneath his mask of foam. 

“…so that obviously only left one place open to us…” Jensen continued. 

“Which is why you got invitations to Westlake Hills Presbyterian Church with its marble nave, gold pipe organ, and seating for 500,” Jared said. “I really think more same-sex couples should get married in queer-affirming churches. Gay weddings: not just for your therapist’s back patio anymore.” 

“What are your colors, Jared? Jensen?” Sterling asked. Mark wrapped the last foil in Jared’s hair and sauntered over the Sterling to prep him for a shave. 

“They are blush and bashful,” Jared said with a grin. 

“They’re PINK and PINK,” Jeff huffed. 

“Blush and Bashful: ‘Cause Jared’s always flushed and sweaty, and I take a bit to warm up to,” Jensen laughed. He blew across Jared’s toes and smiled at the shiver that earned him. 

Jared tuned-out both of them. “My colors are _blush_ and _bashful_. I have chosen two shades of pink, and one is _a lot_ darker than the other. The sanctuary walls are banked with peonies and magnolias in my two shades of blush and bashful, pink carpet ordered just for our wedding service, and---” 

“The sanctuary looks like it was hosed down in Pepto-Bismol,” Jeff said. He tossed a wink to Alexander who smiled tremulously back and tightened his grip on the razor. 

Jensen shook out his shoulders and picked up Jared’s other foot. “When Jared and I went on our first date, he showed up wearing a pink-striped oxford, and I had on this white shirt with a darker pink floral pattern. I dunno, I thought it was sweet.” 

“Oh, I didn’t know that,” Jeff said softly with a tender look at his son. 

“Well, it just got terribly precious in here,” Mark sighed. 

“What about the reception?” Sterling asked. Mark gave Sterling’s hair and skin a final misting and nodded him over to the sitting area. 

“Other than every pink flower Lady Bird Johnson ever planted in the state of Texas?” Jensen laughed. “Laid back, really. Beer, barbecue, taquitos, and our friend’s band. The formal white wedding cake in the dining room, first groom’s cake, mine, in the shape of the state of Texas, set up by the pool, and Jared’s groom’s cake…” he shot Jeff a wicked grin. “Hidden in the man cave?”  
  
“What?” Jared asked in exasperation. “Aunt Ruth said she could make an armadillo shaped cake, and I wanted an armadillo shaped cake!” 

Jeff laughed as he sat up so Alexander could dry his hair. “It’s fucking funny.” 

“It’s red velvet!” Jared said, batting his lashes. “Everyone loves red velvet.” 

Mark moved back to Jared, removing his foils and leaning him back for a rinse and toner. “Are you still going to keep your nursing job, Jared?” 

“Of course I am! I couldn’t give up those kids for anything.” 

Sterling leaned forward, suddenly aware of tension in both Jensen and Jeff. “Well, if you wanted, it’s not like you didn’t marry well. Texas lawyers do well whether they want to or not.” 

Jeff cleared his throat. “Sam and I think he should quit his job after he gets married and I _thought_ Jensen was on the same page, but---”

Jensen became very diligent about Jared’s topcoat. 

“Oh, I am so ready to have this conversation for the eight-millionth flippin’ time, Daddy,” Jared griped, his voice strained from tilting his head back at an angle. 

“You should not be on your feet all day long!” Jeff bellowed, startling Alexander into upsetting a rack of pomades. “You need to give your circulatory system a fucking break.” 

Mark sat Jared up and Jared took a deep breath. He turned toward Sterling with a broad grin. “Anyway, Mama didn’t think we should have barbecue again for the reception, because we had the rehearsal dinner at the Salt Lick?” 

Jensen jumped in eagerly. “So I had some cousins back in Ft. Worth bring in some specialty meats to grill: Bison, Venison, Elk, Wild Boar.” 

“Ah,” Mark nodded, adjusting the settings on his blower dryer. “Very survivalist. Not at all militia.” 

Jared waved a hand dismissively. “They’re just outdoorsy, is all.” 

Jeff gave Jared a calculated look before sitting forward so that Alexander could shave the back of his neck. “The way you and Jensen snuck out of Salt Lick the other night, I don’t think either of you managed to eat more than a pound or two each.” 

Mark waggled his eyebrows. “Ooo, a romantic sojourn?” 

Jensen busied himself with arranging the nail polish tray neatly. “We drove back into town and rode the swan boats at the lake.” 

“Huh,” Jeff said, glancing at Jensen. He shrugged and then said to Mark, “Sam and I are not that cheesy. I have no idea how _he_ happened.” 

Jared grinned broadly. “And then we went skinny-dipping and we did things that frightened fish! And we talked, and talked, and talked.” 

Jensen frowned, though his arms rested relaxed and easy on his knees. “Actually, Jared, we fought most of the time.” 

“You fought?” Mark turned off the hair dryer and looked between the two of them. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you two disagree about anything except who had a perkier butt.” 

Jared chewed his lower lip and then shrugged. “Well, ‘cause I told him I wouldn’t marry him.” 

The room was silent but for the faint hum of the fan and Alexander’s nervous breathing. 

“YOU DID WHAT?” Jeff squawked, sitting bolt upright. 

Jared waved his dad off. “Oh, it’s okay now…” 

“Jared,” Jensen said firmly. 

“We worked it all out,” Jared said, meeting Jeff’s thousand-yard stare. “The wedding’s still on.” 

“Well, good thing,” Mark said, giving Jared’s hair a last rub with a piece of silk. “Because this is possibly the best Jared hair I’ve ever seen, and I’ve known you since you were 10.” He spun Jared to face the mirror, and Jared’s worried eyes were framed by a silky smooth blow-out, just touching his shoulders with a slight wave, and barely there caramel highlights adding depth to his eyes and skin. 

Sterling stood, walking over to look at Jared in the mirror. “Jared, you scared us, and freaked out your Daddy. Never say a thing like that to a man who has shelled out $50,000 for a Westlake Hills wedding.” 

Mark sighed as he cleaned his brushes. “Well, if I know these two, they spent the time I was setting up ‘making up’ in my garden swing.” He wrinkled his nose and then shrugged. “Oh, fine, I love the romantic parts. Christ knows I miss them.” 

Jeff laughed as Alexander worked Biosilk into his trimmed hair. “Oh, whatever, Luc’s probably off stage somewhere sawing May Day poles or decorating 500 Bunny Butt cupcakes, or whatever Pinterest bullshit you promised the Gay Men’s Chorus or Daughters of the Alamo.”  
  
“ Luc!” Mark scoffed, scowling darkly. “Oh, he’s great -- he's my best friend, my partner in crime. But the last romantic thing he did for me was back in 2005 when he converted this Mother-in-Law’s cottage into a salon de coiffure so I could support him!” 

A deep voice burst through the window overlooking the adjacent garden as an unseen Luc protested, “I’m a tax attorney!” 

Mark leaned over and shut the window. “Rabble,” he muttered. “Oh, Alexander! I don’t think I’ve ever seen Jeffrey look less ruffian! You are a miracle worker.” 

Alexander stroked a hand through Jeff’s black and silver hair. “Oh, thank you.” He looked back at Jeff. “Mr. Morgan, you have great hair. Your scalp’s as clean as a whistle.” 

Jeff preened. “Well, I try to wash it with my Suave 3-in-1 at least three times a week.” 

“It runs in the family,” Mark said, as he strolled over to take the cape off Jared. “This strapping lad has the best head of hair I’ve ever had my hands in. So thick, and the color, that’s his natural, Alexander – it looks just like purity shining through darkness.” Mark massaged Jared’s shoulders. “Well, just because I’m bragging on you, Jared, don’t get so cocky on me – sit up.” He said with a wink. 

Jared’s neck locked and he flailed a dinner plate sized hand back at Mark, just missing his eye. “Stop it!” 

“Jared?” Mark noticed Jared’s quivering hands and hunched posture. “JEFF!” Jared began to quake slightly, attempting to curl his 6’5” frame into a ball. 

Sterling spun to the kitchenette. “I’ll get some juice.” 

Jensen rested his hands on Jared’s thighs, soothing. “Mark, there’s some of his candy in my jacket…” 

“I have some.” Mark rattled open a small drawer and handed Jensen a Jolly Rancher. Jensen quickly unwrapped it and pressed it between Jared’s lips. 

Jeff’s hand curled around Jared’s shoulder, steading him. He bent down, trying to meet his son’s eyes. “Jared, hold on, Sterling is getting you some juice.” 

Jeff and Jensen both reached to support Jared as he slumped further. Jeff grimaced and let Jensen take Jared’s left side. Jensen slid an arm behind Jared’s back and made soothing noises. 

“Luc just made some marzipan, should I get him some…?” Mark asked. 

“Juice is better,” Jeff and Jensen answered at the same time. Jeff’s lips tightened and Jensen smothered a grin. 

Sterling sprinted back into the room. “Here’s the OJ.” 

Jeff and Jensen both reached for the glass. Jensen made eye contact with Jeff and his jaw tightened. Jeff raised his hands and stepped back, letting Jensen take the juice.  
  
“Jared, Jensen’s got your juice,” Jeff said, helping to lift Jared’s chin. “Drink the juice, son.” 

Jared’s neck popped as he jerked his head away violently. “NO! Stop it, Daddy!” Jared’s throat worked as he swallowed convulsively. 

Jensen stroked Jared’s cheek softly. “Shhh, here, baby, come on, drink some of this.” The glass shook in Jensen’s grip as Jared continued to pull away, but eventually Jensen was able to get some orange juice into Jared and he slowly calmed. 

“It’s not any wonder,” Jeff said darkly as he settled back against Mark’s station. “With all the running around with wedding nonsense, midnight skinny dipping, and jumping out of the bedroom window. Y’all could have just had a quiet wedding at the house…” 

Jensen’s eyes blazed and he set the glass on the counter with a sharp rap. “Really, Jeff? I can’t right now, and neither can he.” 

Alexander spoke up quietly, surprising them. “How can I help? Should I call the doctor or something?” 

Mark shook his head soothingly. “No, no. He’ll be okay.” 

“Jared’s a diabetic,” Sterling explained. 

“He just has a little too much insulin, that’s all,” Jensen said as Jared’s eyes darted between Sterling refilling his glass and Jensen’s slowly stroking fingers on his cheek. “I’ll just get a little more in him and he’ll be…” 

Jared’s voice shook, his body still shaking, as if coming in from the snow. “If you don’t leave me alone, I’m going to leave.” 

“Try it,” Jeff said with a patient smile. 

“Come on now, baby,” Jensen whispered. “We’ve almost got you there.” Jared reached up to hold the glass on his own. Exhausted, Jensen sat back and let Jeff take over. 

“He’s been so fucking stressed out lately,” Jeff said. He reached for a tissue and started to wipe away the sweat and tears on Jared’s face. “Dr. Roberts, his andrologist, told him on his last appointment…children aren’t possible.” 

Jensen gaped. “Well, fuck, Jeff. You want to share his cock size, too?” Jensen stormed across the room and then stopped, his back to Jeff as he took a deep, cleansing breath. “Sorry, I’m sorry. I…goddamnit.”

“Don’t talk about me like I’m not here!” Jared gritted out. 

“Exactly,” Jensen nodded. 

Sterling put a careful hand on Jared’s shoulder. “I’m really, really sorry, Jared.” 

Jeff dropped to a crouch in front of Jensen. “I’m so sorry, son. Jared. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to blurt that out. It’s just with this talk about cancelling the wedding, I thought—” he glanced toward Jensen. 

Jensen widened his eyes and then scoffed a laugh. “Well, I’m obviously standing _here_ , and I told him I don’t care. I’m not marrying Jared to birth some fucking family dynasty, I’m not some Texas magnate that needs an heir. My life isn’t a soap opera, Jeff. I’m marrying Jared because I love him. If he wants kids to be happy, we can always adopt – I’m a fucking lawyer! Hell, we’ll buy ‘em if we have to!” 

Jared sighed wearily. “Can we _not_ casually discuss child trafficking as if it’s not a major issue in the state of Texas?” 

“And there’s my big brain boy back with us,” Jensen said with a soft smile. 

Jared returned the smile with a grateful look and then looked in the mirror. “Oh, God, I am _so_ fucking sorry.” 

Jeff smiled indulgently. “That’s all right son, you know I never take it personally when you tell me to fuck off during a low sugar attack.” 

Jared rolled his eyes. “I meant I’m sorry to Mark – look at what I did to my hair!” 

Mark ran his hands through Jared’s hair, teasing the strands smooth. “I’ll fix it love, no worries. And if not, I’ll bedazzle you a beanie with some of Luc’s nipple clamps.” 

“I AM RIGHT OUTSIDE PLANTING TOMATOES!” Luc bellowed from the garden. 

Jensen leaned down and took Jared’s face in his hands. “I’m going to make you very, very happy. Promise.”

<<<<<<<<

Eager to demonstrate he was back to full power, Jared helped Sterling carry several crates of Easter eggs to be delivered to the Catholic church. He eyed Sterling’s stroll as he followed behind him. 

“Mr. Sterling! Are those _leather_ jeans?” Jared teased with a faux gasp. “And have you _seen_ your ass in them?” 

“They are, and I have not. They feel a little too racy for me – probably headed for the clothing drive.” Sterling whirled on Jared after opening the back of Mark’s Range Rover. “And STOP calling me Mr. Sterling; you were in eighth grade when I was a senior!” 

Jared grinned sweetly. “Yeah, but you have a real job and your socks always match.”

Mark strolled over to them, hands empty, supervising as Sterling and Jared carefully loaded the eggs. He let his eyes wander happily over Sterling’s leather coated flanks. “Well, I think they’re just too cha-cha for words! If you decide to give them away, I’ll buy them from you.” 

Sterling looked from his own washboard abs to Mark’s trim but shorter and more comfortable frame. “What size do you wear?” 

Mark looked affronted and crossed his arms in a huff. “Well, in genuine hand-tooled leather, I’d wear 30-inch waist, but a 32 feels so good I buy a 34.” 

Sterling snickered. “These are 32.” 

Mark grinned wolfishly. “Perfect. I’ll fast.” 

_BARK. BARK. BARK._

Sterling groaned. 

Mark sighed. 

Jared laughed. 

Alexander stared.

Cutting across the Morgan property toward Men of Lathers was a man in a ball cap, hunting vest, flannel shirt, and an angry, bearded chin jutting toward Jared in accusation. His jeans may have once been Levis, but they were so washed-out, worn, and faded that they flapped around his legs like denim chaps. In both hands, he held a leather leash attached to a large, blackish, balding, lumbering dog that stopped every few steps and sat, much to the man’s consternation.

“That is one lazy dog. What kind of dog is that?” Alexander asked 

“Well, if it still had hair, teeth, and balls it would be a Rottweiler,” Sterling grinned. 

Jared smacked Sterling’s shoulder. “Don’t be mean. All dogs are love.” 

The angry man stomped onto Sterling’s lawn and began looping the leather leash around the trunk of a small pecan tree. “This is it. I have found it. I am in hell.” 

Mark smiled jocularly. “Good morning, Jimbo,” he called cheerfully. 

Jim turned from tying off the leash and put calloused fists on his hips. “Don’t try to get on my good side, Mark Sheppard! I no longer have one.” He turned toward the whining, yapping dog. “Settle down, Rumsfeld.”

Mark grabbed Jensen by the wrist and peered at his Rolex. “Aren’t you a bit early?”

Jim slumped forward pointed an accusing finger at Mark. “Oh, you know _exactly_ why my ass is here – I need to talk to Jared about his horse’s ass of a Daddy.” 

Jared pressed a perfectly manicured hand to his t-shirt covered chest. “Me?” he grinned. “But…I’m the groom! It’s my special day.” He fell against Jensen with a snicker. 

Jim glared at the picture of Jared and Jensen cuddling up to each with shit-eating grins. “Oh, horseshit,” he said, and swept the sweat-stained ball cap off his head to smack Jared lightly on the shoulder with it. “All you’re doing today is putting a legal veneer on the humping everybody’s watched you and Jensen do in their azaleas for the past 18 months.” 

Jensen shook his head. “Now, come on, Mr. Beaver, I don’t think that’s…” 

The glass storefront door to the salon banged outward with an ominous rattle and Mark winced. 

“Y’all seen my gun?” Jeff demanded, his feet planted and fingers twitching at his sides. 

Jared shrugged. “Hell if I know? Where did you leave it?”  
  
“JEFF MORGAN!” bellowed Jim, the chords in his throat bulging, his entire being lit up with righteous outrage. “You are a boil on the butt of humanity!” 

Jeff smiled lazily and rocked back on his heels. “Aw, come on now, what’d I do? I just let off some buckshot at a few birds so they wouldn’t shit on the top of your bald head, and now you’re gonna come belly achin’ to me, like you and I never picked off squirrels in your backyard till the HOA pitched a fit.” 

Jim ground his teeth and then spit at Jeff’s feet. “None of that shit is here nor there. Look at my goddamn dog, Jeff!” He jabbed a finger toward the molting dog and its pitiful yowls. “You’ve got Rumsfeld so tore up, his hairs falling out in handfuls and he had the dirty squirties all down the side of my koi pond!” 

Jared bit his fist and pressed his face onto Jensen’s shoulder. 

Jeff’s eyes gleamed in delight. He bent forward, shaking his Stetson at the dog. “Here, Rummy! Rummy! Kill, boy, kill!” 

“You son of a bitch!” Jim bent his head and started full tilt at Jeff like a charging Brahma bull. 

Jeff leapt between the columns of the portico, reaching in his waistband for his pistol before he remembered he’d mislaid it. “Jared, run get my bat out of the truck!”

Jared and Jensen both grabbed Jim beneath the arms and wrestled him back.

“No, Daddy, dammit!” Jared hollered as it took all of his and Jensen’s combined strength to restrain Jim’s wiry upper body and surging adrenaline. “I’m wearing white _and_ Jensen I just had our nails buffed.” He shook Jim until the older man rattled on his feet. “C’mon, Uncle Jimbo, Daddy’s not _really_ gonna hurt you. And he wasn’t tryin’ to hurt Rumsfeld, either.” Jared’s expression was open and sweet. “He’s just tryin’ to make our wedding nice.” 

Jensen nodded in aggrieved support. “His heart was in the right place.”

“Oh, sure, he’s a true Texas gentleman!” Jim sneered as he shook both boys off. “I bet he even takes the dishes out of the sink before he pisses in it.” 

Jensen smiled disarmingly. “Tell you what, Mr. Beaver, my sister-in-law runs Vhea’s Laundromutt in Dallas. Next time you’re up north, why don’t I spring for Rumsfeld to have the full Paw Spa? Fix that coat right up.” 

Jim looked suspiciously between the smiling grooms, the yowling dog, and Jeff leaning against his truck, cleaning his nails with a pocket knife. 

Jared threw an arm around his godfather’s shoulders. “And I’ll get Mama to throw in a cutting of that Texas Mountain Laurel you love. Perfect to plant in April – smells just like Grape Nehi when it blooms…”

Jim cleared his throat, wavering. “Well…” 

Mark rolled his eyes and opened the door to the salon. “Oh, for fuck’s sake, Jim, you’re not about to kill Jeff on Jared’s wedding day. Get in here and let me attack that neck beard.” 

Alexander swept his gaze over the tableau of Texans on the lawn. “Wow. You’re all such passionate people. And say fuck a lot.” 

Jim turned slowly to the young man he had missed in his pursuit of vengeance. “Who the hell are you?” 

Alexander started, just a few feet from the safety of the salon. “Um. Alexander?” 

Mark gestured graciously between them. “Jimbo, this is my new –” 

“Fine.” Jim waved him away, gaze never leaving Alexander. “I know everybody in this town, and I don’t recall having seen you before.”

Alexander twitched, tugging at his crop top in an attempt to cover more skin. “Well, I just moved into town not long ago.” 

“With your people? Your family?” Jim pressed. 

Alexander stared into Jim’s determined blue eyes, captured. “No, sir, I don’t have any family to speak of.” 

Jim nodded. “A husband? Wife?” he asked casually. 

“M-m-my husband?” Alexander stuttered. 

“Yes,” Jim drawled, poised, his prey drive engaged. “Now, I have the genealogies of 10 generations of Austinites: Anglo-German, African-Caribbean, Native American, and Hispanic Latin back at the house. I’m sure if his people are from here, I’ll know them, too.” 

“Well, that’s kind of hard to say.” Alexander dragged his Converse in the grass. “I don’t know?” 

Jim pounced. “You don’t know? Are you married or not? These are not difficult questions.” 

Alexander looked frantically to a shocked Jared and Jensen for help. “Well, we’re um. I can’t talk about it.” 

“Of course you can!” Mark and Jared grinned. 

Alexander slumped against a portico column. “Well, I’m not sure if I’m married nor not. It was a very impromptu ceremony on a houseboat down in Padre,” he explained. “Then he drove me up here and we spent the night at the B&B, and when I woke up, he was gone.” He blinked rapidly and dragged a fist across his eyes. “And when I looked him up on Facebook, he didn’t have much unlocked, just said he was a manager at Top Golf in Austin and a deacon at First Baptist. His user picture was him and this woman with three little boys holding palm fronds on Palm Sunday!” Alexander finished in a rush. 

“Oh, honey. You are _not_ married,” Jared said slowly. 

“Men are the most horrible creatures.” Jim said emphatically. “Animals I get, people. Feh.” 

Mark lifted Alexander’s chin. “Well, I wish you had said something, love.” 

“I was scared to!” Alexander blurted. “I was afraid you wouldn’t want to give me the job. He left me without my bags, so I don’t have many clothes and without this job…” Alexander bit his tender lower lip before standing straight and adjusting his cats-eye glasses. “But, Mr. Sheppard, I promise you that my personal tragedy will not interfere with my ability to do good hair.” 

Mark eased an arm around Alexander’s shoulders and pulled him in for a gentle hug. “Of course it won’t. Oh, Alexander, adorable little Alexander, _I’ve_ done some of my best work while going through utter hell.” 

Jared stared. “We are awful. We are all hateful, awful people. Here all we’ve been talking about is weddings and psychotic animals.” 

Sterling nodded. “What can we do to help?” he said briskly. “I have numerous contacts in the community, multiple organizations to help –” 

“Yes, yes,” Mark said impatiently. “He’s the LGBTQ sponsor at UT, he works at the state capitol, _and_ he’s a community planner. Did he mention it? Of course he did.” 

Jared took Jensen’s hand and they shared a look. “Well, I know one thing we can do – this afternoon you’re gonna drop by my house and have some red velvet groom’s cake!” 

“Shaped liked Texas roadkill,” Jensen nodded. 

“It’s the Texas State Mammal!” Jared said cheerfully. 

Jensen held up a hand. “Don’t – start on the state capitals.” 

Jeff sauntered back over to the group. “Come on over, it’s gonna be a great party.” 

Alexander took a deep breath, strengthening in Mark’s embrace and the kindness surrounding him. “But I don’t have anything nice to wear for a wedding…” 

Jared waved a hand. “No problem, I bet I have something that’ll work.” 

Jensen rolled his eyes. “ _You_ are 8 feet tall.” He smiled kindly at Alex. “I’ve got some summer suits up at Jared’s, Alexander. We’ll hook you up.” 

Alexander swallowed the last of his tears. “Oh, thank you. You’re just too nice.” 

Jim smirked in a harmless fashion. For him. “This is Texas, honey, we encumber you with hospitality.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote "Mama, Mama! This self-tanner is drying way too dark!" in 2007. I love Jared and his tans.
> 
> I'm sorry if calling Mark P. "Luc" is annoying -- I just didn't want to deal with Mark & Mark, and Mark S needed a partner.
> 
> There are more than a couple of Crowley dialogue allusions ("Never underestimate the King of Hell, darling..." etc.) I was going to footnote each one, but I'm just trying to get this posted. I'm an honest person, if you think a line is funny, I'll own up to whether it's me, Steel Magnolias, or Supernatural. 
> 
> Sterling K. Brown here is a mix of his character Randall on "This is Us," Clairee from "Steel Magnolias," and Barack Obama. 
> 
> I tried to update the realities of type 1 diabetes to the experiences of my millennial friends who deal with it. It is really, really uncommon to have an attack as severe as the movie portrays, and especially so in 2020 with insulin treatments. I tried to play it as if Jared as forgotten to take care of his health with the stress going on, so I hope that works.
> 
> Rumsfeld is Bobby Singer's dog that we saw once in 1.22 "Devil's Trap." He fills in nicely for Ouiser's dog, Rhett. 
> 
> All of the businesses I mention in the fic, other than Men of Lathers, are real. If you're in the DFW area, check out Vhea's Laundromutt for your pet care needs!
> 
> No one loves Jared Padalecki's love of U.S.A trivia more than Jensen Ackles.
> 
> "It's the [south], we encumber you from hospitality" is from the 1993 film "The Firm." It's true.


	3. Time for a Wedding

_April 25 th_

_Westlake Presbyterian, Westlake Hills, TX_

_Morgan Home, Woodview Ct. Westlake Hills, TX_

_Every highway, every heartbreak, every mountain, every mile_

_All the boats I’ve missed, all the hell I’ve caused_

_All the lips I’ve kissed, all the love I’ve lost_

_I thank God for that_

_I guess He always knew_

_I was on my way to you_

Jared’s hand flexed in Jensen’s grip. His eyes welled up for the hundredth time and he impatiently blinked the tears away.

Jensen’s lips spread in a slow smile as he guided Jared around the parquet dance floor. “Darlin’, you don’t have to keep those tears back. God knows, I’ve cried enough today, too.”  
  
Jared snorted, swallowing. “I don’t mind the tears so much, it’s the sexy snot that comes with them,” he said, his joyful laugh booming across his parents’ patio. 

Jensen tugged Jared’s head down to his. “I don’t care, I’ll kiss you anyway,” he whispered as he pressed their lips together. 

Jared’s mouth opened and he kissed Jensen deeply, ignoring his brother’s catcalls and his father’s groan. He ended the kiss with a series of little pecks, and then pressed his forehead to his new husband’s, closing his eyes. “We'll get lost on this dance floor, spinnin' around and around…” he sang softly, off-key but heartfelt.

Jensen’s face split into a grin, and he leaned back in Jared’s arms. “Dude, are you singing Toby Keith? That’s not even the song we’re dancing to. The song _you_ picked for our first dance.”

Jared laughed. “Every love song I know wants to bust out of me today. I’m happy, Jensen.” He pecked Jensen’s lips again. “Mr. Ackles.” Peck. “Mr. Me Ackles.” Peck. “The Ackles.” Frown. “Ackleses?” Grin. “Los Acklelos?”

Jensen dipped Jared deeply, supporting Jared’s weight easily, just the tips of Jared’s hair brushing the floor. “Yeah, I’m good,” he nodded to the applause around him. “Oh, and loved your vows, too. ‘I just kept your pride from dying/You saved my soul from hell’? Yeah, that’s not familiar.”

Jared wrapped his arms around Jensen’s neck and pressed their bodies together tightly as their wedding song ended. “You should be kissing my ass, dude, because I went with ‘Yellow Rose of Texas,’ and not ‘Deep in the Heart of Texas,’ because all the clapping…”

_You can live on the plains or the mountains_

_Or down where the sea breezes blow_

_And you're still in beautiful Texas_

_The most beautiful place that I know_

Jensen gave Jared one last peck and then they separated, Jensen taking Samantha’s hand to lead her to the dance floor as Jared reached for Grandma Ackles.

Samantha’s pink dress fluttered around her toned legs and Jensen took pleasure in a strong dance partner who was actually shorter than he was and waltzed her elegantly to Willie Nelson’s most famous ode to Texas.

“Jared loves you very much,” Samantha said abruptly, staring somewhere around Jensen’s smoothly shaved chin.

Jensen read her stern tone, but answered her back glibly. “I hope so – since we didn’t have the sexism to deal with, I actually _did_ spend two months’ salary on his ring.”

Sam smiled tightly at the couples dancing past them, nodding in appreciation at the looks of admiration their well-matched dancing earned. “I’m being serious, Jensen.”

Jensen smiled back just as tightly. “So am I! We’re just lucky Jared saw “Blood Diamond” – otherwise it could have really set me back.”

Sam tightened her hand on Jensen’s until he winced. They turned and faced the same direction as they began a backwards promenade. “Could I say this, please? Jared is _so_ happy. I know when you are young, it seems like everything will always be perfect. Maybe it will be. But just promise me you’ll think about it before you make any big decisions about family.”

Jensen’s feet stepped lightly as he guided Samantha back to face him, but the smile dropped from his face. “Sam. I know what you’re saying. I _know_. Jared’s only twenty-six. Neither of us are in any big hurry to make _any_ sort of changes, okay? There’s so much right now…just moving to Austin is a big step for me. Buying a house. We’ve barely even talked about dog, although you know Jared will just bring one home one day and take that discussion completely out of my hands.”

Another polite burst of applause greeted them as Jensen glided them out of the promenade and twirled Sam twice. “I know I’m interfering,” Sam sighed.

Jensen nodded, his hands as gentle as his tone. “You are. But I’ve also seen what it’s like to raise a child with special health issues – that’s not unique to the Morgan family, you know.” Samantha looked away from him. “I know that you’re still trying to guide Jared on a path of wellness, and he thinks he’s ten feet tall and bulletproof. I really do get it. But he’s mine now, too, and you and Jeff are going to have to take a deep breath and take a step back.”

Samantha ducked under his arm, breathless. “You shoot from the hip, don’t you?”

Jensen finished their dance with a spin that fluttered her skirt up to show everything but good taste. “Always have,” he smirked.

_There's a place not too far away from here_

_Out with the cows and the Lone Star beer_

_Where the livin' and lovin' is quite all right with me_

_Well they call it Texas and it's a mighty fine place to be_

Alexander walked up to the bar, his hands swimming beneath Jensen’s sport jacket. He gazed at the cocktail spread: cheeseballs and stuffed jalapenos and a nacho fountain. He swallowed, wondering if he could sneak some of the crackers into his jacket before he had to return it.

“What can I getcha?”

Alexander’s hands jerked back from the soda crackers as a bartender smiled at him expectantly. A gorgeous bartender, with deeply tanned skin, jet black wavy hair, and bright blue eyes. Deep pink lips curled in the friendly smile all Texans seemed to wear.

“Oh, nothing,” Alexander said. He cleared his throat and stepped away from the bar. “No, thank you.”

“You sure?” sexy bartender asked with a quirk of his brow. He gestured from the kegs to the iced down longnecks of Shiner and Dos Equis to the top shelf liquor. “It’s free.”

Alexander adjusted the cuffs on his borrowed jacket again. “Oh. All right then.” He smiled brightly. “A soft drink, please.”

The bartender stared at him for a moment and then smiled in delight as lifted his ice scoop. “Well, here in Texas, we call a soft drink a ‘Dr. Pepper.’ How ‘bout a Cherry Dr. Pepper?” He lifted the bottle of cherry syrup enticingly.

Alexander nodded, glad to have the decision made. “You Texans certainly like things to be Texan, don’t you?”   
  
Blue eyes laughed, his face lighting up he looked at Alexander over the soda fountain. “Shit, if that ain’t a fact, God’s a possum.” He winked. “So…you a friend of Jared or Jensen?”

Alexander stared back at the bartender blankly.

He was answered by a casual nod to the dance floor. “Sasquatch or Ken Doll?”

“Oh,” Alexander ducked his head, embarrassed. “J—Jared invited me, just to be nice. I don’t know why I’m here.”

A strong tanned arm reached toward him, a tall glass of black-amber bubbling at Alexander. “Well, I’m Matt Cohen, just to be nice. And this is the best Cherry Dr. Pepper in the history of the world.”

_Come back to Texas_

_It's just not the same since you went away_

_I bet you missed your exit_

_And drove right on through the Lone Star State_

_There's a seat for you at the rodeo_

_And I've got every slow dance saved_

_Besides the Mexican food sucks north of here anyway_

The dining room was wall-to-wall pastels and western suits as Jared and Jensen posed with their hands on the silver server, preparing to cut their wedding cake.

Jensen turned away to answer the photographer, and Jared felt a tap on his shoulder. “That Jensen? He is one big hangin’ man.”

Jared turned, resting-bitch-face ready, to face Sebastian Roche-Lehne. Sebastian laughed up at Jared, his blonde waves askew and his face already flushed with too much of Jeff’s good liquor.

Jared smiled, all teeth and rigid lips. “Yes, I know.”

Sebastian leaned closer, his cream-colored suit limp with sweat and too much cologne compensation. “And he –

Jared leaned in, using every inch of his long torso to loom over Sebastian’s six-foot frame. “And yes, I know you were his TA at Southern Methodist,” Jared said sweetly, the elongated, pointed server in his hand twisting in his grip. “And yes, I know about that one night when ‘you almost.’ And yes I _know_ your hubby’s the mayor.”

Sebastian swayed in delight at having wound Jared up.

Jensen ignored Sebastian, eyeing Jared’s bowed-up shoulders and puffed chest. “You done?”

Jared looked up at the chandelier, considering. “Did I get everything?” He nodded and then looked back at Sebastian with a huge grin. “Oh, and yes, I know you’re like a dozen years older than I am.” He turned his grin on Jensen with a shrug. “I’m done.”

“Cut the damn cake, Jared,” Jensen growled, his arm snaking possessively around Jared’s waist.

Sebastian sauntered past Mark and Samantha, who were sampling small pieces of Jensen’s chocolate groom’s cake. “Calories, calories,” Sebastian sing-songed as he made away over to his expensive husband and their cadre of hangers-on.

“Calories, calories,” Mark sniped. “Fat shamer!” He turned to Samantha with a world-weary sigh. “I know he’s my great-nephew by marriage, but I don’t like Sebastian Roche-Lehne. I don’t trust any queen over 30 who bleaches his own hair.”

Sam licked chocolate mousse filling from her fork and said reluctantly, “Well, he’s the best volunteer we have at the Mental Guidance Center. He’s _so_ good with troubled children. Except his own.” She gave Mark a wicked grin.

Mark peered back at her, delighted. “That’s funny. And for you, so bitchy.” 

_Between the Hank Williams' pain songs and_

_Newbury's train songs and "Blue Eyes Cryin' in the Rain"_

_Out in Luckenbach, Texas, there ain't nobody feelin' no pain_

Jeff set his empty Shiner bottle on a passing tray and strolled over to the small canopy set up by the pool house. His smile widened as he got closer, and then he clapped his hands in delight. 

“How’d you end up with this gig? Lose a bet?” His bright grin darted from Jim in a too-tight dove grey suit with an enormous peony boutonniere to the guests around the pool. “I got a teenage niece somewhere scoring you some edibles while you cover her table?”

Jim nodded politely as he handed the pastor a slice of red velvet covered with grey fondant shaped like the State Small Mammal of Texas. “I’m not speaking to you,” he said, not looking at Jeff. 

Jeff rocked back on his boot heels, catching himself before he tipped into the pool. “Oh, right in the heart. And I _so_ wanted to hear the story about how Jared got you into that getup and not a bedazzled trucker hat.”  
  
“Bite me,” Jim snapped. And then shook his head in apology to the school board president. 

Jeff spread his hands in supplication, and then pointed to the cake, which was mostly head, claws, and tail at this point, Jim having carved the torso into precise slices. “Can we call a truce long enough for me to get a piece of cake?” 

Jim slammed down his server and ignored the crowd forming. “Look, Jeff, I know you’ve got issues – God knows I know. And I know how much that son of yours means to you, to me, and to Mark, and Sterling, too. We’ve half raised him ourselves. And I know it’s been touch and go more than once on whether he was going to make it to his first legal beer. But you ain’t the center of the goddamn universe!” 

Jeff flicked grey fondant from his lapel. “Jim –” he began patiently. 

“Do I sound like I’m done?” Jim fisted both hands on his precarious cake table. “Now, Samantha has been fussing with flowers and geegaws for this wedding for days, and that’s normal, but you’ve been runnin’ roughshod over your neighbors! And then flinging money around to hold off hard feelings, and shooting that fucking pistol off to the point that I’m in danger of losing my standing as a Texan because _there ought to be a law against it_! And you let pygmy goats loose in my garden! What the hell is wrong with you?!” 

Jeff stood frozen for a moment, confused. Then he swept his hat off and banged it against his leg, laughing. “Oh, shit, those are just the goats I rented to clear out the brush on the south end of the property –” 

“That ‘brush’ was my grape trellis!” Jim yelled. “Now I’ve got a naked arbor and a half-naked dog, and there’s STILL birdshit on your patio, you dumbass!”  
  
Jeff rubbed his forehead, discomfited. Garth Brooks songs and laughter still sounded around the backyard, but he and Jim were starting to draw stares, including Samantha’s. “Jimbo…I, goddamnit. This is just…it’s the one thing Jared asked for.” He looked steadily at Jim, dropping the shit-eating grin and reaching out to his oldest friend. “He just…you know what he’s like, always happier than a new pup, so independent, bought his first car with his own savings, went to college on scholarships. Other than all the medical stuff, he’s never needed anything from me. He’s so damn stubborn, and despite those dimples he turns on everyone else, he and I have butted heads so much about how he manages his limits…fuck. This wedding at home, at our church, at the house, it was the one thing he asked for and I just –” 

“Went overboard?” 

Jeff nodded, chastened. “Like a drunken sailor.”  
  
Jim took the server in hand and began passing slices of cake again. “Yeah. I get it, I do. Well, I don’t get the goddamn goats, but I understand your heart was in the right place. Which is where it _better be_ when I send you the bill for my new trellis.” 

Jeff bumped his shoulder against Jim’s. “So, kiss and make up? C’mon, Jimmy. Why don’t you cut me off a slice,” he said with a tongue-waggle. 

Jim hefted the server and hacked the back end of the armadillo cake into a large piece and plated it with a thunk.  
  
Jeff accepted the delicately scrolled china plate covered in grey-flecked red velvet and segmented tail. “Thanks Jim. Nothin’ like a good piece of ass.”

_Out in the West Texas town of El Paso_

_I fell in love with a Mexican girl_

_Nighttime would find me in Rosa's Cantina_

_Music would play and Felina would whirl_

“Mama? Help me?” Jared held out the pink sleeves of his tux, and pointed to the cufflinks. Samantha bent her head over the small gold circles. Jared took a deep breath. “Well, this is it. You’re finally rid of me.” 

Sam smiled up at him, indulgent. “Oh, I think you’ll be back every now and then. The nearest Whataburger is closer to our house than yours.” 

Jared grinned. “Well, I do need that spicy ketchup.” He watched her slender fingers unhook the first cufflink and set it carefully aside. “Cufflinks are pretty stupid when you think about it, aren’t they? Why can’t they just put buttons on it like a regular shirt?” 

“These were your Daddy’s,” Samantha said, looking into Jared’s surprised face. “I gave them to him on our wedding day.” She traced the monogram with one pearlescent fingertip. “JM. Just like you.” She dropped the second cufflink and hugged Jared desperately. “You make Jensen Ackles take good care of you.” 

Jared buried his face in her blonde curls. “Mama, Jensen already takes good care of me. And I’ll take care of him.” He looked at this mother, his usually dancing gaze adult and even. “And I’m not stupid.” He squeezed her one last time. “I’ll get my bags.” 

Samantha walked to Jared’s window, looking down on the crowd waiting on the front lawn to wave the newlyweds on their way. She swallowed back tears at the sounds of Jared gathering the last of his things, marking his last night in his childhood home. Then she laughed. “Well, well, the boys just brought the car around.” 

Jared blanched at the thought of his black Jeep covered in shaving cream. “What did they do to it?” 

Sam let Jared’s drapes fall closed. “Let me put it this way, if you and Jensen want to save it for a float in this summer’s Pride Parade? You’re all set.” 

_(Where did I go wrong)_

_Did I wait too long_

_How can I make it right_

_The bluest eyes in Texas_

_Are haunting me tonight_

Matt looked up from hanging his catering vest in his truck to see Alexander walking slowly past, his slightly too long suit coat and pants billowing adorably. Matt walked around to the passenger side. 

“Hi,” he said quickly. 

Alexander startled, his eyes darting from Matt to the sidewalk ahead. “Hello.” 

Matt cleared his throat, suddenly nervous. He opened the door of his Chevy Stepside with a lurch. “Would you…like a ride?” 

“Oh,” Alexander said, his face nervous. “Oh, um, no, no. No, thank you. I’m staying at Mr. Sheppard’s tonight, so I’ll just be…” he smiled awkwardly and then darted across the Morgan’s lawn to the street. 

Watching this exchange from the valet parking stand in front of the Morgan’s, Sterling turned to Jim. “Well, curiouser and curiouser.” 

“Walk me home, Sterling,” Jim said, wrapping his hand around Sterling’s thickly corded bicep and tugging. 

Sterling pulled back and looked at Jim in surprise. “What? Why?” He gestured past the sandstone house. “You live right behind the Morgans, and you’re more armed than I am!” 

Jim set off on a course that would circle the Morgan home. “I don’t care. You know what kind of world we live in. Hoodlums see a septuagenarian walking home alone and it’s like MS-13 Christmas.” He stopped and gestured for Sterling to catch up to him. 

“MS-13. In Westlake Hills,” Sterling said dryly. “Oh, I _know_ you’re not watching Tucker Carlson.” 

Jim glared at him and then tugged him forward by his sleeve. “I’m old, not an idiot. But there’s only so many of those chain emails you can ignore. ‘Hi, glad to meet you. Jim Beaver: paranoid bastard,’” he said with a sarcastic salute. 

Sterling started to stroll after Jim. “Well, who’s gonna walk _me_ home?” 

Jim scoffed, leading them deeper into the darkened cover of the Live Oaks. “You’re 30 years younger than me and 6 feet of PX-90!” 

Sterling gestured fruitlessly at the valet line. “But my Bentley’s parked way over ---” 

Jim marched on, pointed toe boots clicking in the dark. “Come on. I want to talk.” 

Sterling threw up his hands and followed. “You are acting like a child – you’re worse than Jared.” 

Jim glanced back. “Jared’s a grown man about to get deflowered on his wedding night,” he said with a snicker. “Follow me,” he said, waving to his Spanish Colonial home in the distance. 

Sterling matched his stride to Jim’s. “This is ridiculous. The older you get, the more paranoid you get.” 

Jim nodded. “And the older you get, the more chiseled you get, which isn’t fuckin’ fair, because I have more money _and_ tenure. Now, come on, age before booty.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I picked April 25 as the wedding date because it's my birthday, and because it's "not too cold, not too hot: all you need is a light jacket!"
> 
> "And for you? So bitchy" is from SPN 2.6 "No Exit." 
> 
> "...paranoid bastard" is from SPN 6.21 "Let it Bleed."
> 
> When Jared first began shooting in Vancouver, Texas's Whataburger chain was one of the things he missed most.
> 
> I used Sebastian Roche (marrying him to Fred Lehne) to represent the entire Marmillion family, who are Clairee's gossip-worthy distant family in the film.
> 
> Jim’s “not the center of the universe” speech is paraphrased from SPN 6.4 “Weekend at Bobby’s”
> 
> Songs used:  
> Jared sings part of Toby Keith's "You Shouldn't Kiss Me Like That"  
> "On My Way to You" by Cody Johnson  
> "Beautiful Texas" by Willie Nelson  
> "(Ohio) Come Back to Texas" by Bowling for Soup  
> "Luckenbach, Texas" by Waylon Jennings  
> "The Bluest Eyes in Texas" by Restless Heart  
> "El Paso" by Marty Robbins (Jensen had mentioned in an early interview that "El Paso" was one of his favorite songs, and as fellow Texan, Vinnie asked him about it at the Creation Con in Chicago, Nov 2007).


	4. I Don't Even Go Here Anymore

_December 22_

_Zilker Park Trail of Lights, Austin, TX_

_When it's Christmas time in Texas_

_It's a very special time for me_

_In Texas we'll be swingin' around the Christmas tree_

_Dancin' to a Christmas melody_

_When it's Christmas time in Texas_

_It might look just like a summer day_

_There may not be snow in San Antonio_

_But it's a Texas Christmas to me_

Jared dug one hand deeper into his hoodie pocket and tightened the other around Jensen’s shoulders as they shivered in the mid-December central Texas chill of 60 degrees. Lights glimmered white and magical on trees, bushes, and shrubs around the park. Lighted wire carolers stood in mid-song next to lighted wire shepherds looking to the heavens. Carols by George Strait, Carrie Underwood, and Dolly Parton wrapped them in a warm blanket of nostalgia so comforting that Jared’s eyes stung and his jaw worked.

On the tinsel draped stage of the main pavilion, they watched as Jared’s former high school debate partner, Angie Hernandez, was crowned Austin’s Miss Merry Christmas 2020. Jared grinned as the former Miss Merry Christmas placed the LED tiara on Angie’s chestnut updo. The grin faded, however, as the smarmy MC, Sebastian Roche-Lehne, dipped Angie and tried to tongue her to her chewy center. 

“Hey!” Jared boomed in his biggest Jeffrey Dean Morgan tone. “That’s sexual assault, man. Hands off!”

Jensen smirked in delight as Angie pushed Sebastian off and stepped to the mic to discuss her platform on mixed martial arts and self-defense. “Awesome,” he breathed.

Jared laughed. “Go Angie!” he hollered with his arms waving above his head.

Jensen tugged Jared’s sweatshirt down to cover his treasure trail, waistband of his SAXX underwear, and his TEXAS belt buckle. “Hey,” he said with another tug on Jared’s shirt.

“Yeah, babe,” Jared said, looking down at him with a grin.

“Imma run over there to the golf tent ‘n see if they got the new Callaway gloves,” Jensen said as he reached up to peck Jared on the corner of his mouth.

“Yeah, yeah,” Jared nodded. “I’m gonna go get a drink. Want somethin’?”

“Yeah, get me whatever they got in aluminum – Bud Lite, Miller, don’t care.” Jensen said as he jogged over to the tent.

“Oh, dick,” Jared breathed before turning down the path to the food trucks. He looked up with a grin as he heard a familiar British accent.

“Best food in Hill Country! Get it while it’s hot!” Mark called from a large booth covered in red and black Christmas bunting. “Blood, sweat, and tears go in every little cornhusk!” He looked menacingly over his shoulder. “Right, boys?”

“Right!” Alexander, Brock, and Colin muttered as they shoved cardboard boats of tamales out of windows as quickly as Mark dished them up.

Jared laughed looking at his brothers in sparkly red and black vests and black silk bow ties. “Nice,” he chuckled.

Mark looked up, dropping his chili spoon. “Jared! Get your perky little butt over here!”

“Jared!” Alexander called with a happy wave.

“Jared, Jared, Jared,” Brock and Colin snipped, rocking their heads in unison.

“Yeah,” Colin said to Brock, “He drove 30 whole minutes to get here. Big whoop.”

“I know you were not trying to sneak by us without buying some of our fresh steamed tamales,” Mark said. He shook a steamer basket of delicious meaty goodness at Jared. “They’re hot tamales: just like Alex!”

Alexander, who was dressed exactly like Mark with a deep brown pompadour and a black on black sequined jacket laughed. “You really should try one,” Alexander told Jared earnestly. “We’ve already pulled the little cornhusks back so you can get to the pork.”

Jared laughed. “You, ah, realize I’m _from_ Texas, and we will be having pans of tamales with our ribeyes on Christmas Day, right?” He looked at the deep, silky all-beef chili Mark was stirring. “All right, give me a couple. No, a throuple, Jensen will want one, too.” He drummed his fingers on the windowsill as he watched Mark dish up his order. “I’m just killing time – Jensen has found the golf tent and we may never see him again.”

“How about a Paloma while you wait?” Mark asked as he rattled a pale yellow cocktail in a clear Solo cup at Jared. “Luc went all the way to the holy men at Teotihuacan to get the tequila!”

Colin elbowed his way between Mark and Alexander. “I bought the Topo Chico!”

“Yeah,” Brock nodded, smirking at his younger brother. “He went all the way to H-E-B.”

Jared laughed. “Sounds great guys, but I’ll just have a sweet tea.”

Mark let Alexander take over tamale duties and leaned out the booth’s window at Jared. “I’m sure your parents are happy that you got home in time for the Trail of Lights.”

“Again, he drove across town,” Brock said as he made change.

“Shut it,” Jared said to his brother, snapping his jaw playfully. He reached up and tweaked Mark’s bow tie. “I wouldn’t miss the Christmas lights for anything – this is where Jensen and I kissed for the first time –”

“-- on top of the Ferris wheel, it was just like ‘Love Simon,’” Brock and Colin droned.

Jared’s forehead wrinkled. “Are you two turning into the same person? Colin used to be sweet.”

“I want to have Jensen Ackles’s babies,” Brock sing-songed, making kissy-faces to Colin’s delight.

“Wait your turn,” Jared growled at Colin with a finger jab. He turned back to Brock. “And I’m not too grown up to whoop your 5’5” ass.”

“I’m 5’7”!” Brock yelped.

“Anyway, Mark, what are you doing here, slinging tamales in your Van Beirendonck?” Jared glanced curiously around the food court. “Doesn’t Luc usually do the frilly apron stuff?”

Mark sighed deeply. “He’s laid up in bed, says he feels like death. He and Lala did make the tamales, though.” He looked quickly around the crowd of tamale clientele. “He’s not got anything contagious – just a migraine. Again.”

Jared tried to hand Alexander a five-dollar bill as Alex handed him his iced tea and was waved off. “Get your money away,” Alex said teasingly.

“Thanks,” Jared smiled.

Mark untied his sequined French Maid’s apron. “I think the boys can handle the orders with Lala’s supervision, hmmm?” Mark said, looking to Luc’s dearest friend and queen of tamales for her laughing permission.

“Take a stroll with us, Mr. Ackles,” he said, taking Jared’s arm and leading him back toward the midway.

Alexander skimmed a perfect shot up the skee ball ramp, hitting 1,000 on the first try. “Well,” he laughed at Jared’s impressed nod, “my hair’s not the only thing that’s changed. I started going by Alex, which I never wanted to do before, because it seemed so…intimate. And after Mark made some discreet inquiries—”

“Blackmail,” Mark coughed into his fist.

“—into Mr. Top Golf Deacon?” Alex continued. “I got my clothes and my car back, and I then I just went _wild_. I was running around, vaping and chasing boys –”

Mark nodded sagely. “He was swinging that dick like a New Jack: 512, 469, 915, he had all the area codes.”

Alexander took his last pitch and pulled his long ribbon of tickets out of the game slot. “Mark helped me see the error of my ways.”

Jared shoved his hands into his jeans pockets and leaned back, mouth falling open in shock.

“Mark? Really,” rumbled from behind him, and Jensen leaned up to press a kiss to Jared’s jaw.

“Hey, babe,” Jared said, immediately taking Jensen’s hand in his.

Alexander smiled at Jensen in greeting and then sat on the side of the skee ball game, kicking his feet. “Mark gave me a place to live; I go to church with him and Mr. Sterling now, and I’ve done guest lectures on the Bro Flow and the Pompadour at the trade school.”

Mark waggled his brows. “Our little Alex has become one the hottest tickets in town.”

Jensen grinned around a mouthful of tamales. “Couldn’t happen to a better kid.”

“That’s right,” Jared said, smacking Alex lightly on the shoulder and almost unseating him. “Someone had to pick up and carry my crown.”

Mark pointed back to the tamale booth and he and Alexander waved as they headed off. Mark looked back with a grin. “Oh, and Jared, you and Jensen don’t want to miss the Nativity made entirely out of sparklers! Can you imagine anything more wholesomely blasphemous in your life?”

A warm chuckle greeted that and Jensen and Jared turned to see Sterling, who dressed head to toe in the blue and bronze of the Austin Wranglers. He held out a hand to both Jared and Jensen. “Hello, Ackleses! Acklessess? Mr. and Mr. Ackle?” He pulled them both into a hug and patted their backs. “When did you two get into Austin-proper?”

“This afternoon,” Jensen grinned. “And, hey, Merry Christmas –” He tossed Sterling a gold-plated putter.

Sterling smoothed his hands over the gorgeous finishing on the golf club. “Oh, what a gift! Is that real gold? I shouldn’t.”

Jensen shrugged and leaned back against Jared. “I won it over at the golf tent drawing. I’ve got one just like it at home.” They stared at him. “No, really. From Jared last Valentine’s Day.”

Jared nodded self-deprecatingly. “When ya boy comes from money, you gotta gift funny. It’s functional on the course, too, _and_ it repels banshees.”

Jensen and Sterling, “…”

Jared coughed and looked down at his boots. “What? I read.”

Sterling tapped the putter against his palm and nodded. “Well, be sure you listen too, to the football game tonight.”

Jared shrugged as he and Jensen headed toward the trail of lights. “Sure, what are we listening for?”

“Me!” Sterling laughed as he started to walk backward toward a group of men standing around the KTEX radio van. “I’m a local celebrity again! I’m the color announcer for the Wranglers!” 

Jensen tipped a look at Jared, amused. “Sure nice of them to let you talk on the radio, Mr. Sterling.”

Sterling flipped him off with a laugh. “Nice, nothing! I bought the Wranglers!”

“What?” Jared laughed. 

“Yes!” Sterling said, gesturing to his Wranglers wind suit. “I thought you knew!”

“I don’t even go here anymore, remember?” Jared said.

Sterling smiled. “I haven’t done anything frivolous since Lisa died. Feels good. And I really do love football.” He pointed at them as he jogged to get into the van. “You remember that, Jared, Jensen. Do what makes you happy, even if it seems crazy.”

Jared looked at Jensen and gave him a small, private smile under the red gleam of a Lone Star beer sign to the sound of Lyle Lovett’s “O Little Town of Bethlehem.”

>>>>>>>

  
_Austin Wrangler’s Locker Room, Austin, TX_

  
“This is KTEX radio, station of choice for Austin sports, coming to you live from the Wrangler’s locker room. This is Matt Cohen, station intern, with color announcer Sterling K. Brown. Mr. Brown, the Wrangler’s new owner, is going to be sharing his insights as a former UT football player, the former First Gentleman of Austin, and as just a huge Texas football fan.” Matt handed Sterling a mic and began to count him down. 

Jim left his perch by the locker room door and strolled in, tipping a two-finger wave to Sterling as he settled himself on a bench. This was going to be good.

Players streamed into the locker room, street clothes and BVDs hitting the tile floor as they began to pull on uniforms. Jim averted his eyes as much as he could. He wasn’t an old perv, but he was still a healthy gay man. 

Matt gave Sterling the signal and Sterling gripped the mic tight, turning slowly as he took in the locker room and its sounds of male grunting. 

“Thank you, Matt! Hello, Austin! You know, Matt, it’s a shame our listeners can’t be here to see the gorgeous new Wranglers uniforms – designed right here in Austin by one of my favorite outdoor and athletics shops.” Sterling plucked a jersey on an otherwise bare-assed player as he ambled by. 

“As a community planner,” Sterling continued, “I’ve used their services many times for Out Youth, Casa Marianella, and the Austin Justice Coalition. But these uniforms are particularly beautiful. I would not have gone with white pants, obviously, I would have chosen a darker color. White is SUCH a difficult color.” 

Sterling looked at Matt expectantly. Jim snorted into his hand.

Matt blinked and cleared his throat. “It’s, uh, it’s hard to keep white clean when you’re getting tackled,” he agreed at last.

Sterling turned deer-in-headlights wide eyes on Jim and swallowed helplessly. “But I love the jerseys; such an unusual shade of blue: would you call that color Savoy, or Ultramarine?”

Jim rolled his eyes.

“Um,” Matt answered.

Sterling dry swallowed, at sea with the plot and seeing the delight in Jim’s eyes. He mopped his forehead with his Wranglers embossed sleeve and cleared his throat. He searched desperately for something, anything, of the _everything_ he knew about Texas football. “While we’re at it, Matt,” he said desperately. “Austin has reeled from the admissions and sexual assault scandals at UT in the past couple of years. I plan to have the Wranglers benefit from my long experience as a community planner and have multiple consciousness raisings with our players on everything from domestic violence to pay equality to the roughness inherent, although necessary, to the sport itself –”

“ _Shut up_.”

Sterling whirled to look at Jim. “What?”

“This is just painful. I thought it was gonna be hilarious ‘cuz you babble when you’re nervous, but you are making a FOOL out of yourself, Sterling, and you were too good a ball player for me to sit and watch it.” 

Sterling’s breath whistled in his throat and he laughed a bit hysterically. “Texas Football fans, you are in for a treat. Here with me is the esteemed Department Chair of Religious Ideology at the University of Texas, Dr. Jim Beaver. We have a counterpoint?” He held the mic to Jim’s mouth. 

“This is football!” Jim said, gesturing to the naked musculature surrounding them. “All people wanna hear about is touchdowns and injuries! They don’t give a damn about social justice and that ultramarine shit!”

>>>>>>>>

_Morgan Home, Woodview Ct., Westlake Hills, TX_

“We have this new psychiatrist that comes in two days a week at the office. Of course, I pick her name out of the Secret Santa drawing,” Samantha said. She stirred whiskey slowly into the homemade eggnog to avoid beating the egg yolks. “Would you add her to the list? I’ve gotta pick up something for her tomorrow and of course no idea what.”

Jared leaned over the kitchen island and nodded, carefully adding ‘new psych’ to the list.

Jeff sauntered into the kitchen and grabbed the list from Jared. “I’ll make this easy. We know ‘em: gun range certificate. We don’t know ‘em: neck massager.” He scanned this list. “Neck massager. Gun range. Gun range. Neck massager. Neck massager. Gun range. Neck massager. Neck massager. Neck massager. Most of these are neck massagers.”

Sam ignored her husband’s grin as she sprinkled nutmeg on the eggnog. “I am NOT giving Grandma Morgan a gun range certificate.”

Jared hopped up on the counter and snagged a sugar cookie off a platter. “Why would you? She already hits up every Gun Show and Craft Bazaar in the state.”

His mother’s answering look was not pleased. “And I was going to ask you to help me brainstorm ideas for your Daddy, but he doesn’t show any interest in leaving.”

Jeff clutched a gift box of potent bourbon balls to his chest and popped them into his mouth one by one, smirking.

Samantha pointed for Jeff to get the punch bowl and cups down. “What’s Jensen giving you? Do you know?” she asked Jared.

Jared twirled a strand of hair around a finger. “Furniture,” he said coyly.

“Furniture?” Samantha huffed as she started filling cups with eggnog. “Well. Must be nice being married to a rich lawyer.” She smiled across the warm kitchen full of gingerbread smells and soft classical carols from the Amazon echo on the counter. “What’s it for – the living room?”

Jared took a deep breath, bravely looking at each of his parents in turn. “No, for the nursery.”

Sam froze. Jeff choked on a bourbon ball.

“I’m pregnant,” Jared said, a soft smile lifting the corners of his mouth.

“I realize that,” Samantha said matter-of-factly.

Jeff wheezed, catching his breath, and then bellowed. “ _That’s_ how you tell us? With a smirky, ‘Furniture?’ ‘FURNITURE’?!”

“Jeff,” Samantha sighed.

Jeff cocked a hip against the counter and stared at Jared. “Let me do the math on this, Jared. You’ve been married eight months – EIGHT MONTHS!” He tossed the box of bourbon balls into the sink. “Goddamnit!”

Samantha covered Jeff’s hand with her own and squeezed. Then she stepped around the island and looked at Jared with a set expression. “Jared. You told us – you and Jensen both – that you didn’t have plans on family. That you were barely moved into your new house. That you hadn’t even talked about _pets_ yet.”

Jared shrugged helplessly, his oversized hoodie and beanie making him look like a teenager instead of a married man of 27. “And it just happened.” His eyes were pleading. “It…just happened, Mama.” He cleared his throat. “Just like _I_ just happened when y’all were dating.”

“Jared, you know it’s not the same,” Jeff growled. “At all.”

Jared looked at both of his parents and then swallowed, dropping down from the counter. He shoved his hands into his back pockets. “Is that all you’re gonna say?”

“What do you want us to say, Jared?” Samantha said tiredly. She opened the refrigerator door and stared into the sub-zero, unseeing.

Jared laughed unbelievingly. “Well, something like, ‘Congratulations,’ or ‘Our first grandbaby!’ or ‘Jared, you’re glowing despite the faint scent of vomit.’”

Samantha dropped her head and closed her eyes. Jeff came up behind her and rubbed her shoulders.

“I mean, just a _little_ fucking excitement?” Jared said, his voice rising as he spread his arms wide. “I’m in love! I’m happy! I married the best man I know, and…and I’m pregnant!” He bit his lip. “Without even trying, without any problems…”

Jeff turned back to Jared. “What does Jensen say about all this?” he asked quietly.

Jared rubbed his beanie, dislodging it and sending his hair to fall around his face. “Well,” he huffed, “he was shocked at first, but now…he’s so excited. He doesn’t care whether it’s a boy or a girl, and he’s already telling me all these ideas for names; it’s all he can talk about.”

Samantha slammed her hands on the countertop. “Does he ever _listen_? When your doctors, your specialists, give you advice? When they tell you how to manage your diabetes for a longer, healthier life? I know _you_ never do. Does he? Huh? The question was never could you get pregnant, Jared, it was _should_ you.”

Jared flexed his shoulders, facing down his parents. They were so angry. His tone softened, and he started over with reason. “Mama, I do listen. There’s no reason that someone with type 1 diabetes can’t have a healthy pregnancy. It’s 2020 – it’s not a death sentence like it was for Nanna Smith when you were a kid.”

Jeff rubbed his face roughly. “Son, we’re not talking about academic statistics of diabetics and pregnancy. We’re talking about YOU, Jared Tristan Mor – Ackles, who already faces a high-risk pregnancy as a man, _and_ as a diabetic. YOU, Jared. Your nephrologist told us when you were in high school that your kidneys were already in jeopardy because of the albium in your urine.”

Jared stood up straight and nodded. “And I’ve worked on my diet and exercise with my nutritionist for years. I’m diligent about my insulin. I’m in better shape than I’ve ever been.”

His mother was silent for a moment, and then she approached him slowly, taking a reasonable tact as well. “Jared. Please, I know you feel you already have the answers, I know you’ve made up your mind and you think you and Jensen together are invincible.” She gripped his arm fiercely, her eyes burning with mother love. “But listen to me as a person who has carried children and given birth – the strain that a high-risk pregnancy will put on your body will be more than you can imagine, even with medical support. The surgery you’ll have to have to give birth, all of that will tax your already overworked –”

Tears glistened on the tips of Jared’s lashes, and his voice broke. “Mama. I’m pregnant _now_. Like Daddy said, this isn’t academic. It _is_.” He moved her hand from his elbow to his lower belly. “It’s happened. If Jensen and I had had time to discuss and second-guess, yeah, maybe we would have adopted, or fostered, or looked into a surrogate. But it’s _happened_ and he or she will be here in July. Whatever I might feel I can do or you’re scared that I can’t, it’s done – she’s on her way.”  
  
Samantha choked on a sob.

Jared turned to Jeff, shaking his head as tears streamed down his face. “And Daddy, I want her so bad.” 

Jeff lurched forward and took Jared in his arms, pressing a hard kiss to the top of Jared’s bent head. “He’s right, Sam. We can stand here and talk to him about his limits and that adoption would have been a better choice all night long, but facts are facts –” Jeff cleared his throat roughly. “Jensen’s slipped one past the goalie and Jared’s baking up the baby batter.”

Jared pressed his face deeper into Jeff’s shirtfront and groaned. “So fucking gross.”

Sam shook her head frantically, her eyes wide. “I can’t. I can’t, Jeff.” She swallowed hard. “I can’t joke about this, and laugh about this, and dream about grandbabies. I can’t. I can’t watch Jared…”

Jared reached out a hand to Samantha, tugging her into an embrace with his parents bracing him on both sides. “Mama, whenever any of us asked you what you wanted for us when we grew up, what did you say?”

Sam shut her eyes tightly, shaking with silent sobs. “The only thing I have ever said to you, ever, is that I want you to be h-happy.”

“Okay,” Jared nodded, his cheek resting against the soothing familiarity of his father’s heartbeat. “I’m going to have a baby, and I wish you’d be happy, too.”

“I’ll tell you what I wish,” Samantha huffed, dropping her head to rest next to Jared’s on Jeff’s shoulder. “I don’t know what I wish.”

Jared watched as Jeff wiped the tears leaking from Samantha’s eyes. “Mama, I don’t know why you have to make this so difficult. Daddy’s already coming around.”

Samantha sobbed a laugh. “That’s because he just ate about a dozen bourbon balls. He’s drunk.”

“Not drunk, just pragmatic,” rumbled from Jeff’s chest.

Comforted, Jared smiled hopefully at Samantha. “Mama, sure there’s risk involved, but that’s true for everyone. You get through it and life goes on. And when it’s said and done there will be a little piece of immortality with my good looks and Jensen’s fashion sense. I hope.”

Jeff nodded, his beard scratching against the tops of their heads. “And if it’s the opposite way, I can buy him or her their first TEXAS belt buckle.” 

Jared squeezed Samantha’s hand in his, his eyes welling again. “Please, Mama. Please, I need your support. I don’t know how this is going to go, and I’m scared. But I’m so happy, too. I would rather have Jensen and this baby for as long as I get to keep them than to never have gotten the chance at all.”

Samantha leaned down, kissed Jared’s clenched hand softly, and then jerked out of their embrace. “I…Jeff, can you?” She was gone so quickly there was just a patter of steps running up the stairs before Jared could turn around.

Jeff wrapped his arms tighter around Jared and rocked him back and forth as he hadn’t since Jared was in grade school. “Son, you love this baby as much as your Mama and I love you, and everything should be all right."

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Alex clung to the portico with one hand, to the ladder with his thighs, and slowly leaned down, the discreet white extension cord clutched in his other fist. “Okay,” he told Matt, “I’m going to hand it to you; I don’t want to drop it on your head.

“Got it,” Matt said, reaching up. “You’re in luck – I’ve got one outlet left.”

Alex swayed on the ladder, and then gripped it tight, smiling as he surveyed their handiwork. “Please put the cords behind the columns, otherwise Mark said it looks tacky,” he said as he climbed down.

Matt sighed. “I know, you’ve only told me about 40 times.” He stood quickly to help Alex down. Matt’s hands encircled the tight abdomen beneath the soft black salon tunic, and the soft glitter ball on Alex’s Santa hat brushed his lips. Alex stood flush against him, his quick breaths causing his stomach to quiver under Matt’s grip.

“Alex,” Matt murmured, and dipped his head, unblinking baby blue eyes meeting his. 

“HONK!” blared from the truck rambling up the drive.

Alex jumped out of their almost-embrace and Matt swore. “Jeffrey Dean Morgan is the living embodiment of truck nuts,” he muttered. 

Jared bounded out of the pickup, his long legs eating up the drive until he stood, grinning widely at the decorated salon. “Alex!” Jared’s eyes sparkled as he looked over at the blushing boy. “Did you do all of this?”

Jared breathed a soft “Wow” as he took in the elegant display. Gorgeous swaths of white and cream tulle sparkled with white lights, delicate white snowflake drifts, and magnolias in white, cream, and gold.

Alex smiled. “Guilty! Mark said I was fey enough to turn the decorating over to me. I don’t know what that means,” he said, looking back at Jared, “but I tried to do the opposite of what you Texans call tacky.”

He reached down into a tote next to the porch. “I went to the fire sale at the Baptist bookstore in Elgin last week. They had mis-matched manger scenes for almost _no_ money. I cleaned them out of baby Jesuses, which I made into ornaments for wreaths for all of you.”

He ceremoniously placed an evergreen wreath covered in naked manger babies into Jeff’s hands.

A grinned bloomed across Jeff’s face. “Well, shit, Alex, bless your heart.” He thrust the wreath into Jared’s hands. “Look, Jared! A whole ring of Jesus for your front door.”

Jared stared at the mesmerizing ring of blond infants. “Yes, I see that, Daddy. Thank you, Alex.”

Matt carried the ladder back to the garage and ran lightly up the porch steps, lifting the main chord and switch. “She’s ready to light, Alex.”

Alex started to join Matt on the porch, and then turned with a smile. “Jared, would you do the honors?”

Jared took the steps three at a time and grabbed the controller from Matt.

“Here you go, Mr. Ackles,” Matt laughed. 

“Thanks!” Jared turned to look out onto the porch and then pressed the button, his face flush with pleasure as lights shimmered to life, bright despite the afternoon sun. Snowflakes gently shimmered in the breeze of a hidden fan, and then there was a woofer pop, a whir of a sound, and from a hidden speaker twanged:

_Merry Christmas from Texas, y’all!_

_Where we hang the mistletoe and dec the old dance hall_

_May that big lone star shine on you from afar_

_Merry Christmas from Texas, y’all!_

_From South Padre up to Pampa_

_El Paso to Texarkana_

_Merry Christmas from Texas, y'all!_

“That was my contribution,” Mat said confidentially to Jared.

Jared shook his head as the discreet colors fluttered to the beat of a steel guitar. He snickered. “Mark’s gonna love it.”

As if summoned, Mark stepped out onto the porch. Sterling followed close behind him.

Sterling brushed snowflakes from his hair. “I think your elves have gone berserk.”

Mark sighed. “Well, it was lovely until it started moving and y’alling.” He smacked the controller in Matt’s hands. “Stop that. Stop that.” He caught sight of Jared as the sounds of a Christmas in Texas abruptly cut off. “Jared! I wasn’t expecting to see you today! What can I do with that luscious hair? I’m offering a special: it’s called a Christmas Quickie.”

Jared slumped against a column. “Mark, I am beyond help. Last week I discovered the early stages of crow’s feet.” His lovely, youthful face pouted in exaggerated worry.

Mark reached out and stroked Jared’s smooth cheek. “Darling, darling. Time marches on, and eventually you realize it’s marching across your _face_.” Jared laughed up at Mark and then bussed a quick kiss on his cheek.

  
_BARK. BARK. BARK._

“Oh, no,” Alexander said, shivering from a sudden chill. “It’s Mr. Jimbo. I’m supposed to give him a pedicure today. I hate working on his feet.”

All assembled took a moment to appreciate that visual, and shuddered.

Sterling sighed. “It could have been worse. He could have wanted a full-Brazilian.”

“Yikes,” Jared deadpanned. He looked at Jeff. “Can you picture it? Uncle Jimbo in South Padre for Christmas in a banana hammock and a trucker cap?”

Sterling shuddered elegantly. “Let’s not get graphic.”

“Why not?” Jeff said, with a considering look. “We all know Jim has to get some somewhere. Don’t you ever wonder exactly _where_?”

“No,” Sterling and Mark snapped in unison.

Jared bounded down the steps to pet Rumsfeld. “Uncle Jimbo! I met an old friend of yours last week.”

“Oh?” Jim asked as he tied off Rumsfeld’s leash and then grimaced at the Christmas décor.

“Steven Williams?” Jared asked with an arch grin, his hands buried in Rumsfeld now even coat.

“Oh,” Jim said flatly.

Sterling straightened from his slouch against the portico. “Steven Williams? Now, there’s a blast from the past.” His lips quirked. “I’m sure you remember him, Jim.”

“Of course I remember him,” Jim said, stomping into the salon. He threw his hat on the counter and sat to remove his boots. “The man could drink a fifth of Johnny Walker Blue in one sitting.”

Jared picked his way between Alexander passing out capes and Sterling sweeping the mud flakes from Jim’s boots off his chair. “Well, he doesn’t drink like that, now,” Jared said. “He’s been volunteering with me at Jensen’s Grandma’s church.”

“Grandma Ackles?” Jeffrey whistled long and slow. “Damn, you _do_ love that man.”

Jared dropped down on a squashy chair and sighed. “There isn’t much I wouldn’t do for those bowlegs.”

Sterling settled back as Mark picked up his clippers. “Steven’s been gone from Austin since God was a boy, I’d forgotten he even existed. He was a legend on the police force when I was a kid: drunk, gay, black cop? Whew.”

“Well, now he lives in Dripping Springs and goes to First Presbyterian with me,” Jared said. He quirked a brow at Jim. “When he found out I was from Westlake Hills he asked me if I knew you.”

Jim grunted.

“He used to live in Ohio somewhere,” Jared said airily. “Was married but lost him a few years ago, so he moved back down here.”

Jim thumped his Docs next to the door. “Does this story have a point other than people get old, move, and die?”

Jared stretched back in his chair, arching his back. “No, not really. He just remembers you fondly, I think.”

Jim scuttled on bare feet over to the pedicure chair and gingerly dipped his feet into the hot water Alex had bubbling. “I can’t imagine why. He was not a bad feller, but I managed to run him off and shack up with the first of two total deadbeats.”

Jared picked through a candy dish on a side table. “Maybe I can get us all together sometime.”

Jim’s face flushed in the steam as Alexander girded his loins and took up a pumice stone.

“I don’t see the point in that,” Jim muttered. Jim twitched as Alex began paring his heels. “Jared, I not only managed to waste my youth on two men so self-involved they may as well have been succubae, all I have to show for it is one quasi-stepson who sends me Christmas cards every year hoping I’ll remember his mangy ass in my will.” He bit back a moan as Alex massaged his instep. “The only reason people are nice to me is because I have more money than God. Now, I’m not about to open a new can of worms.”

Jeff sat up from the shampoo bowl, shaking his head like a spaniel. “Jimbo, if this is how you really feel, you should think about calling Sam and going to the counseling center.” Sterling and Mark chuckled. “I’m serious, y’all,” Jeff said. “Sittin’ like a hermit in that big old house alone isn’t the healthiest behavior. And this is _me_ talking.”

Jim crossed his arms and sank deeper into his massage chair. “I’m not crazy, Jeff. I’ve just been in a very bad mood for 40 years.”

Alex stood up to get some more vinegar for Jim’s exfoliating scrub.

“Alex, I think you’re successfully bringing denim-on-denim back,” Sterling said appreciatively.

Alex looked down at his indigo jeans, stone wash denim jacket, sheer white tee, and blue and white fringed scarf before he seated himself and bravely took up one of Jim’s feet. “Oh, thank you, Mr. K. Brown. Jensen has been taking me to do what he calls ‘Goodwillin’. He says if you have the right body type, you can buy clothes almost anywhere, but you should always have some vintage pieces. He also calls this a Canadian Tuxedo, but I’m not sure what Levis and boots have to do with our northern neighbor, since everyone here seems to wear them. But I just picked out a few denim pieces and then ‘threw them together’ with a scarf. The scarf was Jared’s idea.”

Jeff snorted. “It always is.” 

“It’s my signature piece,” Jared preened. 

Sterling nodded. “Well, it looks great, Alex. You know the only thing that truly separates us from the animals is our ability to accessorize.” 

Jared turned to the window at the sound of a car door slamming shut. “Speaking of my Male Model, there he is.”

Jensen came in with a waft of Gucci Oud and a blast of chilly 65-degree December air. He bent to drop a kiss on Jared’s mouth and then looked back at the others. “Guys. Looks good out there, Alex.” 

Alex blushed. 

“Ooo, what’s that blush for, Alex?” Jensen drawled as he dropped down next to Jared. “You and Matt get tangled up in the tinsel?” He turned his attention back to Jared as if those hazel eyes were his true north. “Hey, baby. You ready?” 

Jared nodded. “Yeah, I just wanted to ride over with Daddy and say hi. We never get over this way as much as I’d like anymore.” 

Jensen smiled and hooked an arm around Jared’s neck. “Well, we’ll be over here a lot more now that your new doctor’s on this side of town.” 

“Jensen,” Jared said warningly. 

Jensen laughed, pulling Jared closer to him for another smacking kiss. “Oh, don’t worry, darlin’, I’m not gonna tell ‘em that you’re pregnant, I’m just gonna tell ‘em I’m gonna be a Daddy.” 

Mark dropped his hair dryer. 

Sterling dropped his iPhone. 

Alexander dropped Jim’s foot. With a splash. 

Then laughter, congratulations and apologies rang out. 

“Oh! Is it going to be a boy or a girl?” Alexander asked while he soothed lotion into Jim’s beleaguered toes. 

Jared squeezed Jensen’s face in his hand. “Well, it’s going to be pretty either way, so does it matter?” 

Laughter trailed off as Jeff slammed into the bathroom. 

Jared and Jensen exchanged guilty looks. 

Jensen stood, pulling Jared to his feet. “We better get to that appointment, Jared.” He bustled Jared toward the door. “Alex, gents, good seeing you.” Jensen looked up toward the ceiling. “You, too, Luc!” 

“Congratulations, Ackleses!” came faintly from the roof. 

The door closed behind Jensen and Jared and Jeff slammed the bathroom door back open. 

Jim gestured grandly back to the seat and haircut Jeff had abandoned. “What’s wrong with you? You got a reindeer up your ass?” 

Jeff slumped silently in the chair, avoiding eye contact. 

Mark drummed his fingers on the chair side, pondering. “Feeling upstaged by the new men in Jared’s life?” he suggested. 

“And the doctor said children weren’t possible. Jensen must have super sperm,” Alexander said wonderingly. 

Jeff slapped Mark’s hands away from his hair. “The doctor said he _shouldn’t_ have children. There’s a big difference.” He sighed, holding his head between his hands. “This baby isn’t exactly great news. I mean, I’ve made my peace with it, there’s no stopping it now. All I can do is hope and pray that Jared’s luck and Jensen’s determination will make it all work it out, but I can’t get over the worry of what this is going to do Jared’s health, and fuck, what it’s going to do to Samantha if anything goes wrong.” 

Mark, Sterling, Jim, and Alexander stood hushed as they watched the mighty Jeff Morgan come up against a problem he couldn’t punch, shoot, kiss, or bullshit. 

Mark placed a careful hand of Jeff’s back. “I’m rarely at a loss for words, Jeffrey, but I’ve got nothing.” When Jeff didn’t shrug his hand off, he rubbed lightly and continued, “I’d say that we should just be patient and let this work itself out, but patience isn't one of my virtues...well, I don't have any virtues...but if I did, I'm sure patience wouldn't be one of them. So why don’t we act like the hedonists we poofters are always accused of being and just take joy in the now?” He smiled winningly down at Jeff. 

“I’m not a poofter,” Jeff muttered. 

Mark rolled his eyes. “No, you’re worse: you’re a Texan. You celebrate everything with bullets, bonfires, and beef.” 

Alexander crossed the room slowly and knelt at Jeffrey’s feet, taking his hands gently. “It will be fine. I believe it.” 

Jim stood up and stumped damply to Mark’s station. He grabbed a cut-glass decanter of whiskey. “Absolutely.” He poured them all shots into coffee mugs and passed them around, and then lifted his cup to Jeff. “To the Granddaddy to be.” 

Sterling lifted his MoL mug in an elegant hand and tipped toward Jeff. “As the wise man said, ‘That which does not kill us makes us stronger.’” 

“Nietzsche,” Jim nodded as the others drank. “Had either syphilitic dementia, or vascular dementia. Died of pneumonia. Barely 55. Very sad.” 

Jeff sighed. “Goddamnit, Jim.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mark references Ludacris's song "Area Codes." 512, 469, and 915 are the area codes for Austin, Dallas, and El Paso, respectively.
> 
> Jensen loves golf, and golf is huge in Vinnie's hometown. There really wasn't a story there.
> 
> SPN 11.11 "Into the Mystic" gold kills banshees.
> 
> Austin Wranglers were an arena football team between 2004-2007
> 
> My fanon Sterling is pansexual and his late wife was trans.
> 
> Out Youth, Casa Marianella, and the Austin Justice Coalition are support services in Austin for LGBTQ youth, displaced immigrants, and Black Lives Matter, respectively. 
> 
> "We have a counterpoint?" is a Buffy quote. Sorry.
> 
> "Gun range...neck massager" is an homage to my favorite Christmas movie, "Scrooged."
> 
> JDM says "Let me do the math" often when he's thinking about how to answer.
> 
> "Slipped one past the goalie" is from SPN 4.19 "Jump the Shark"
> 
> Alex's denim-on-denim look is inspired by this 2010 outfit of Mr. Ackles:  
> https://www.justjared.com/photo-gallery/2445437/jensen-ackles-danneel-harris-katsuya-04/
> 
> Songs used in this chapter are:
> 
> "When It's Christmas Time in Texas" by George Strait  
> "Merry Christmas From Texas, Y'all" by Tracy Byrd


	5. Whatever We Have Between Us: Love, Family, Whatever It Is

_February 14th_

_Long Center City Terrace, Austin, TX_

“I have never been this sick.” 

“Lies.” 

Jared turned his face into Jensen’s shoulder, muffling a groan. “I haven’t. I would remember.” 

Jensen pressed his lips against the sun-warm hair at the crown of Jared’s head and shook with a repressed chuckle. “Last July. Cohen brought those ribs over, and I mixed up Maui marinade, and you took ‘em out of the fridge when you were faded one night—” 

Jared groaned, low and heart-felt. “Shut up, shut up, shut up—” 

“—and you ate a whole slab of raw-ass ribs in the middle of the night—” 

“Jensen, if I actually manage to finally throw up, I will aim for your boots.” 

“Aww, I’m sorry, darlin’.” Jensen’s hand slid from Jared’s hip to the slight mound of his stomach and rested there, light and comforting. He snorted. “But you had to get a Vitamin B shot in your butt.” 

Jared snuggled deeper into Jensen’s embrace and then barked a sharp laugh. “’I thought they tasted a little funny,’” he drawled, quoting himself. He took a deep breath, his eyes squinting as he looked out into the fading sunlight. “Wish I could just yack this up like I did then, even with the botulism butt shot. This is just rolling nausea, all day. Never stops; never makes me throw up. And everything I want to eat is definitely not on my nutrition plan.” 

Jensen leaned back on his arms, letting his chest and abs support Jared’s weight. “Be over before you know it.” 

Jared’s lips pouted against the hinge of Jensen’s jaw. “Our first Valentine’s Day as Mr. & Mr. Ackles, and I can’t even have champagne.” He glanced at the picnic basket and scrunched up his nose. “And I don’t _want_ the brie.” 

“Yeah,” Jensen answered, his eyes scanning the blanket-dotted park for the others. “I don’t know what your Dad was thinking, getting our basket catered from La Patisserie, when I can see his El Primo box from here.” 

“Because he’s an enormous cheeseball,” Jared mumbled through a mouthful of puff pastry and lobster. He swallowed and his voice roughened, the vowels elongated. “Because we are, how you say, _ze lov-eurs_ , and that is so _oui-oui_ , _kiss-kiss_.” 

Jensen sat up and took Jared into his arms, wrestling him to the blanket. “You speak ze French to me?” he growled before he covered Jared’s mouth with his own. Jared laughed into Jensen’s mouth before moaning and wrapping his arms around his husband’s neck, his body arching against Jensen’s. 

“Woooooo-Weeeeeee!” The redneck caterwaul didn’t even break them apart, although Jensen did lift his head and sigh. “That could be anyone we know. Dude. We’re on a group date with your family and half the damn town.” 

Jared pushed up on his elbows, grimacing as he nodded toward his parents, who had the audacity to toast him with their cans of Shiner. 

Jensen counted them off with finger guns, “The in-laws, Sterling, your cousins from the wedding, Jimbo and Rumsfeld set up over by the beer tent…” his hand slid lower on Jared’s abdomen, just toying with the fly of his jeans and then he looked up sharply.. “Sister Mary Katherine,” Jensen waved at no one, nodding. 

Jared laughed, full-bodied and open. “Shut up. You’re Episcopalian.” 

“And…hello…what have we here,” Jensen said, sitting up. 

Jared smirked. “Nothing you haven’t felt before…” 

Jensen gave Jared’s fly a last regretful caress. “We’ll get back to that.” He nodded several rows ahead of them, just in front of the bandstand. “Check that out.” 

Jared leaned forward to see Matt Cohen fisting his hand in Alexander’s newly platinum hair as Matt guided their mouths in a hot, gasping kiss. “Well, hello, unexpected porn at the Valentine Day’s orchestra my parents bought us tickets to,” Jared breathed. 

“Hello, boys.” Mark’s shadow blocked the Texas sunset and the view of Alex and Matt writhing groin to groin on their UT throw. 

“Dude,” Jensen groaned, attempting to peer around Mark’s billowing black silk trench coat. “Not cool – you’re _see_ -blocking us.” 

“Totally not cool,” Jared nodded. “This is more action than I’ve had in a week.” Jensen glared back at him and Jared shrugged apologetically. “I’m not queasy for five minutes,” Jared explained. “I’m going to enjoy this.” 

Mark looked disinterestedly over his shoulder. “Oh, that. I get that floor show every time Matty is between jobs.”

“Really?” Jensen whistled. “I didn’t know they’d gotten past hand holding and taffy pulls.” 

“Oh, I don’t think they’re pulling anything in earnest just yet,” Mark shrugged. “Alexander really wants to make this one happen, so he’s playing it very close to the chest.” 

“Huh,” Jared said, dropping back against Jensen and tangling their legs together again. “From here it looks like he’s playing it very close to the taint.” He snickered as Jensen blew a raspberry on his neck in response. 

“Hey!” Jeff hollered from three rows over. “Down in front!” 

Mark rolled his eyes and then knelt elegantly, sweeping his coat behind him. “Please. The orchestra hasn’t even started warming up yet.” He eyed their picnic basket and then plucked a raspberry cordial from it. “So how did you two, the last of the red hot lovers, end up here enjoying splendor in the grass with the parents?” 

“Um, I’m four months pregnant,” Jared pointed out. “I can’t drink, I can’t dance,” he elbowed Jensen as he saw his husband’s lips quirk, “and, as of my last appointment, now that I’m showing all expressions of ‘physical love’ should be ‘gentle expressions of shared care,’” Jared said. “That’s exactly what my andrologist said, right, Jensen? It was hilarious. ‘Shared care,’” Jared repeated in a snooty voice. 

“So no more public shags on the town green,” Mark said drily. 

“Plus Mama had a Groupon,” Jared said glumly, “so we ended up here at the old folk’s orchestra.” 

“Not so bad,” Jensen murmured, his hand smoothing down Jared’s black blazer to glide gently over his cotton-covered belly. 

Mark cocked his head. “What’s that on your shirt?” he asked, peering closer in the dying light. 

Jared grinned and spread his jacket open, Jensen moving his hand aside so that Mark could see the black letters glittering against the baby pink t-shirt: _Proof That Geeks Get Laid_. 

“Charming,” Mark murmured, and then smiled genuinely, his dark, knowing eyes darting over Jared’s face. “You look wonderful,” he said softly and then seemed surprised at himself. He reached out and brushed a manicured hand through the wavy gleam of Jared’s hair as it brushed his cheeks. “You’ve always been a lovely lad, but like this, waiting for your child, well. It was bloody stupid, what you two did, but…” he cleared his throat, sitting back. “I don’t know how you’re doing on the inside, love, but your hair’s just holding up beautifully.” 

Jensen rolled his eyes. “I thought we were about to see a genuine emotion out of you, Mark.” 

Mark laughed lightly as he got to his feet. “I torture all my friends. It's how I show love.” 

The orchestra began tuning up as Mark made his way over to Jimbo and Rumsfeld. 

“I wonder where Luc is,” Jared murmured. 

“Do you ever feel like we’re the only ones who ever see them together?” Jensen asked. “And that’s mostly because I think we’ve made out in almost every room in their house. They’re like our Snuffleupagus.” 

Jared smiled, closing his eyes and listening as the violins chased the cellos. “No, I’ve known Mark and Luc since I was a kid. Luc’s just not social, is all, and Mark always seems like he’s running for King of the World. They’re happy. Their way is just different than ours.” 

Jensen swayed Jared easily in his arms. “I like our way.” He glanced over toward Jeff and Samantha, who appeared to be whispering sweet nothings to each other, each with one eye on Jared. “But I’ll tell you what, I cannot wait for our son or daughter to be born so everyone stops staring at us as if the sky is about to fall in.” 

Jared nodded, his face blissed out as Jensen moved them in time to music, his body sinking deeper into the plush pile of the blanket and Jensen’s arms. “It makes our ‘gentle expressions of shared care’ harder to sneak in with literally the eyes of Texas upon us.” 

Jensen nosed his way down to Jared’s ear as the vocalists took the stage and a breathy-voiced “I Hadn’t Anyone Till You” wrapped around them. “Soon as it gets dark enough and your Daddy gets deep in his Shiner, I will take you back to the pickup and you can express all the care you’ve got bottled up right here,” Jensen said, tapping his parted lips. 

“Yeah,” Jared moaned gratefully. “And if we time it just right with The Eagles medley, you can give me ‘The Best of Your Love’ right before the crowd starts heading out.” 

“And you were afraid our babymoon Valentines wasn’t going to be romantic,” Jensen murmured as he dotted soft, opened mouthed kisses along Jared’s hairline. “Semi-public pregnant sex, Texas love songs, and a moonlit truck bed. Romantic as shit.” 

_I hadn't anyone till you, I was a lonely one till you_

_I used to lie awake and wonder, if there could be_

_A someone in this wide world, just made for me_

_And now I see I had to save my love for you_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jared and Jensen's raw rib story:  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CfnK5udWtEM 
> 
> Jared's pregnancy symptoms and sex during pregnancy described as "gentle expressions of shared care" are based on my own high risk pregnancy. 
> 
> "You speak ze French to me" is from the Season 8 Gag Reel.
> 
> You can, in a non-Covid year, get a Groupon to A Valentine Evening With Bob Schneider and the Moonlight Orchestra in Austin.
> 
> I was going to attend the 2008 Creation Con in Dallas when I was 8 months pregnant wearing a t-shirt that read "Proof That Geeks Get Laid," but Jared ended up cancelling (it was right after he and Sandy broke their engagement) and I ended up deciding not to go.
> 
> "I torture all my friends. It's how I show love," is from SPN 9.2 "Devil May Care."
> 
> The penchant for public and frequent groping/sex in this fic is an homage to one of my favorite OG fics, "There's a Piece of the Puzzle Known As Life" by keepaofthecheez.
> 
> Songs Used:  
> "I Hadn't Anyone Till You" by Ella Fitzgerald


	6. A Tale of Two Kidneys

_July 3rd, one year later_

_Morgan Home – Woodview Ct, Westlake Hills, TX_

“Born on the 3rd of July! He’s a Yankee Doodle sweetheart! He’s a Yankee Doodle boy! Yankee Doodle went to Texas just to ride the ponies; he is our Yankee Doodle joy!”

The blond-haired, blue-eyed toddler bounced on his grandpa’s lap with a grin full of eight white teeth as he listened to his family sing. Jeff leaned forward and kissed the baby on his cheek, making him squeal.

“Oh, hold that,” Samantha said, standing. “Let me get a picture.”

Jeff leaned to the side so that both his red, white, and blue tee shirt, reading ‘Jeffrey Dean 1st” and his grandson’s, reading ‘Jeffrey Dean 2nd', would show as the iPhone clicked.

Jensen, to Jeff’s right, pointed at the single candle on the rocket-shaped cake. “Go ahead and blow it out, buddy.” Baby Dean looked back at him and grinned, reaching out to pat his Daddy’s face. “Go ahead,” Jensen said, nodding with a big grin. “Blow it out. Blow!”

Jared, to Jeff’s left, took Dean’s hand and guided him forward. “That’s it, sweetie,” he said, pursing his own lips and blowing exaggeratedly. “Blow out your candle!”

Brock, eighteen and feeling it, slouched in his patio chair and groaned. “Oh, this is boring as hell.”

“Hey,” Samantha said as she sat back down at the table and elbowed her son. “You only have your first birthday once.”

The wind snapped the balloons tied to the eaves and stirred the ones floating in the pool. It blew Jared’s hair into his eyes and he pushed it back to glare at Brock. “Yeah, we all sat and clapped while _you_ spit all over your first of many, many Blue’s Clues cakes.”

Jensen attempted to focus his son’s attention on the cake again. “Little buddy’s making a wish.”

“Well, I _wish_ he would make it and blow,” Brock said, kicking at his mother’s teak patio table leg until she smacked him like a toddler. “I mean, how complicated are a one year old’s wishes? ‘I wish my butt wasn’t wet.’ ‘I wish at least _one_ of my dads had boobs…’”

“Dude,” Jared and Jensen snapped.

“I can’t stand this,” Colin yelped and leaned in to blow out Dean’s candle. Dean laughed and Jared slapped Colin’s red, white and blue boater hat down on his face. 

“Don’t you fucking dare,” Jeff growled.

“Fuck!” Dean squealed.

Jensen sighed. “Okay, come on, baby, look.” He and Jared leaned in close to their son. “One, two, three…” Jensen and Jared blew out the candle and Dean clapped as his family cheered.

>>>>>>>>>

_July 7_

_Morgan Home, Woodview Court, Westlake Hills, Texas_

Jared smiled at Jensen pushing Dean around the den on the baby’s new Radio Flyer Rocket. He caught his dad’s eye as Jeff headed to the front door and then followed him out onto the front lawn.

“I’m just running to Mark’s for a trim – I’ll be back in hour or so,” Jeff said. “You feel like steaks for tonight?” he asked as he tossed his keys in his hand.

Jared nodded and then said, “You know what, I think I’ll come with you. I want to get my hair cut. Short. And I want Mark to do it.” He ran a hand over his collar length hair, and then nodded firmly. “Save me so much time in the morning if I don’t have to schedule in Con-Air time. I want to just run my fingers through it and go.”

Jeff smiled slowly. “I think that’s the smartest thing you’ve said all year.”

Jared jogged to the front door and then looked back at Jeff. “I feel the need to make things as simple as possible. Let me run tell Jensen.”

“Bring that baby, they’ll wanna see him,” Jeff hollered to Jared’s back.

“If I can wrestle him away from his Daddy!” Jared called faintly from the house.

>>>>

_July 7_

_Men of Lathers Salon_

“Jared, I can’t find the fucking wipes in here,” Jeff said as he dumped a black leather bag in his son’s lap. Dean wailed and Jeff shushed him, rocking him gently.

“That’s because you grabbed Jensen’s bag,” Jared sighed. “He’s got a system.” Jared slipped his hand into a side pocket and handed his dad a packet of wipes and a cowboy print changing pad. “Here.” 

Jeff juggled the baby and the changing necessities. “The hell do you need TWO diaper bags?”

Jared leaned back to let Mark continue shampooing his hair. “Because he went to Neiman Marcus and spent $1000 on a Burberry bag and I’m making him carry it until it smells like spilled formula and butt just like mine does.”

“You two are nuckin’ futs,” Jeff said as he carried Dean into the bathroom. “What a waste of money. Who spends a thousand bucks on a diaper bag?”

“How many guns you own again, Daddy?” Jared grinned.

“Shut up.”

“Is he wet?” Jared called.

“No,” Jeff growled. “He’s full of shit, just like his Daddy.”

Jared listened to Jeff fight with the new changing table and curse diapers and Jensen and then coo at Dean when he fussed at grandpa’s grumpy noises. He grinned. “I’m sorry, Sterling, finish what you were saying about Sebastian Roche-Lehne and the Mayor! Get to the good stuff.” He turned cautiously to Mark. “Um, if that’s okay with you, Mark. I know they’re family.”

Mark scoffed. “Sebastian is my great-nephew, hardly a kissing cousin. Besides, you know what they say: if you don't have anything nice to say about anybody, come sit by me!”

Sterling laughed. “Well, I have to admit, Sebastian did go about it the wrong way. He marched into the mayor’s office and said, ‘Darling, I’m so sorry to tell you this, but I have a brain tumor.’ Then while Fred is flailing around and calling his cronies at Baylor Medical, Sebastian leans in and says, “Ah, Freddie, I’m only kidding, I’m just straight.” I could hear Fred’s eruption all the way down to my office.”

“Holy shit!” Jared gaped. “That was Sebastian’s brilliant plan for confessing to being a sleazy conman?”

Sterling shrugged and lifted the hand he was soaking to admire his cuticles. “Sebastian’s always been a bit of a pot stirrer. And you _know_ Fred has considered them a model family – he’s helped raise Sebastian’s children since they were babies. Of course then all of those pictures of Sebastian in one motel after another with six years of the past Miss Merry Christmases went viral. Pictures taken by a series of anonymously funded private detectives, I might add.” Sterling gave Jared and then Mark an arch look. 

“No doubt some concerned citizen with an ear to the ground and a penchant for discretion,” Mark said. He started carefully unclipping sections of Jared’s hair and trimming them. “After all, this isn't Wall Street, this is Texas! We have a little something called integrity.”

“I _did_ notice that this ‘concerned citizen’ managed to keep the names of the Miss Merry Christmases out of the gossip rags,” Jared said. “Pretty classy, I thought.” 

Mark hmm’d as he worked product through Jared’s hair and started to blow dry the damp strands and smooth them. “Well, they’re hardly the first young people to fall afoul of a smarmy grifter with high political connections.”

Sterling snorted. “They were all high. They’d been smoking everything but their shoes.”

Mark gestured broadly with his Dyson Supersonic. “Oh, please. We’ve all seen Jared and Jensen do worse in their less domestic days. I for one have seen Jared in a pair of SAXX briefs more than I’ve seen him clothed.”

Jeff chuckled as he and a freshly changed and re-dressed Dean exited the bathroom.

“Hey!” Jared twisted in the chair to glare at Mark. “I didn’t hook up with greasy Sebastian, why drag _my_ under drawers into this?”

“Because, darling,” Mark said with a devilish grin. “You need to _hold on_ to yours!” He spun the chair so that Jared could see his reflection.

Jared stared at his short, gelled, slicked back hair. 

Mark fidgeted. Jared was silent. Mark cleared his throat. Jared was silent.

“Well?” Mark finally rasped. “Well? I did what you asked, didn’t I? Tom Hardy in ‘Legend’? Oh, darling, please don’t cry, or Sterling will, too.”

Jared sniffed hard.

“It’s true,” Sterling agreed. “I have a strict policy that no one cries alone in my presence.”

Jared blinked. “Yeah, it’s just that I…Daddy?”

Jeff placed Dean in his pack’n’play and turned back to Jared. He nodded. “Yeah. I like it, son. I don’t think I’ve seen your ears since you were 11, but I like it.”

Jared took a deep breath. “Okay.” He accepted a tissue from Sterling. “Okay.”

Mark twisted his hands together. “Oh, for God’s sake, why are we all so close to blubbering? It’s just a haircut. The only reason he liked to wear it so long in the first place is so that Jensen could pull it when he fucked him.”

“Dude,” Jeff groaned. “That’s still my _child_.”

Jared laughed through his drying tears. “Well, now, Mark, let’s do my nails.”

“Well, this is a banner day!” Mark cried. “I don’t think I’ve done a manicure since your wedding! I don’t even know what I should charge for a full day’s beauty.”

Luc’s deep voice sounded over the intercom from the main house, “Personal consultation, haircut, styling, shampoo and conditioning with steamed towel and hot lather shave on the back of the neck is $55.00, hand repair service for men is $30.00, so $85.00, plus tip. We haven’t changed the prices in eons – you just like playing with Jared’s hair.” Click.

Mark leaned in and whispered in Jared’s ear. “We’ll call it an even $60, love.”

Jeff stood up and stretched. He shrugged his leather jacket off. “You know what, Alex? I’m gonna need one, too.”

“Bloody hell!” Mark sputtered. “You’ve never gotten more than a shave and a trim in the fifteen years I’ve known you!”

Jeff shrugged. “Don’t know. Just wantin’ to feel pretty.” He winked at Jared who smiled gently back. 

“Well!” Mark gestured Jared and Jeff toward the manicure and pedicure stations. “I’m going to get a feathered Stetson and change my name to José Eber!”

Alex muttered a quiet, “Amen” and stood from where he had been kneeling silently by the storage room.

Jared started. Alex ’s hair was an unremarkable natural dirty blond and he was wearing the basic black uniform Jared hadn’t seen since his first few weeks at Men of Lathers.

Mark huffed an agreeable but curt, “ _Amen_ ,” and then he cleared his throat. “Alexander, I’m going to need some more cuticle oil.”

Alex gestured to the storage room, his face an expressionless mask. “Is it still…?”

Mark nodded, watching Alex head to the storage room. “Second shelf, next to the Wormwood Absinthium Cream.”

Alex shut the door behind him and began to rifle through the shelves.

“Was he _praying_?” Jared stage whispered.

Mark sat down in the manicure chair with a disgruntled woof. “Yes.”

Jared held his hands out to Mark and looked at Jeff and Sterling. “Um, not to sound heathen, but…why?”

Mark took up his Emory board and began gently buffing. “Who can say? Maybe he was praying for Sebastian and Fred, and all the Miss Merry Christmases. Maybe he was praying for us because we were spilling the tea. Maybe he was praying because the elastic is shot in his BVDs. Who knows? He confers with his guardian angels on and off all day now.”

“Huh,” Jeff said as he sat in a rolling chair and spun lazily. “How long has he been getting freaky for Jesus?”

Mark leaned in conspiratorially. “Since Mardi Gras. He had his choice of going to a Bible weekend with his Sunday school class, or going to New Orleans with me and two other sinners.”

“Well, to be honest, Mark,” Jared said, “New Orleans at Mardi Gras with you would be a lot for _me_.”

Mark snickered.

“So what does Matt have to say?” Jared asked. “They’re Instagram Official now, right?”

Mark huffed a breath and threw a scrub brush at Jeff and pointed him to the sink. “ _Under_ the nails, Jeffrey.” He looked back at Jared. “Matt’s so confused he doesn’t know whether to shit or go blind. He said he could deal with another man in their bed, but he’s having trouble with the Father, the Son and the Holy Ghost.”

_BARK. BARK. BARK._

“Be vigilant, Rum!” Jim yelled from the porch. “There’s rednecks about.”

Jim barreled through the door and saw Jeff by the sink. “Oh, God. The redneck has invaded.” Jim turned to see Baby Dean gurgling in the pack’n’play. “And he’s a breeder.” 

Jim smiled and started toward the baby and then caught sight of Jared. “Jared. Your hair is so short.”

Jared smiled. “…Thanks?”

Sterling pulled his hands from the nail dryer. “Jimbo, you’re almost chipper. Why are you in such a good mood? You run over a small child, or something?”

Jim dumped a large burlap bag into Sterling’s lap. Sterling huffed. “Tomatoes,” Jim said.

Sterling stared down at the peck of tomatoes in his lap. “Don’t give all these to me! I’m a one-man household!”

Jim walked over to the kitchenette. “Somebody’s gotta take ‘em. I hate ‘em. I try not to eat healthy food if I can possibly help it. The sooner my body gives out, the better. I can’t _get_ enough grease into my life.” 

Jim took a Dr. Pepper out of the refrigerator, popped the top, poured ¼ of it in the sink, and then added whiskey from a flask. He jumped with a shout as Alexander walked out of the storage room behind him.

“Then why do you grow them?” Alexander asked with a frown. 

“Because I’m an old Texan with arthritis and a sluggish prostate – we’re supposed to wear funny lookin’ hats and ugly clothes and grow vegetables in the dirt! Don’t ask me those questions – I don’t know why, I don’t make the rules!” He dropped into the first open chair, guzzled half of his drink, and then belched loud and long.

Mark shuddered and gestured for Jared to put his hands in the soaking bowl. He unbuttoned Jared’s cuff and fastidiously rolled the sleeves up to keep them dry. His breath left him in a rush. “Jared! What have you done?”

Mark looked up at Jared in horror.

Jared gave him a half smile. “It doesn’t hurt.”

Mark looked back down at Jared’s inner forearms. They were riddled with scars, red streaks, and irregular bumps. “Jeff! Have you seen this shit?”

“Yes, I have.” Jeff said calmly as he took his seat and held his hands out to Alexander.

Jim peered myopically from his chair across the salon.

“The doctor’s just trying to strengthen my veins,” Jared said simplistically regarding his AV fistula. “They’re in crappy shape.”

Jim came over and lifted Jared’s arm, turning it toward the light from the window. “Good Christ. Jared, it looks like you’ve been driving nails up your arms! What in the hell is going on?”

Jared gently pulled his arm back and looked at Jeff. “You wanna tell ‘em, Daddy?” Jared looked toward his son playing happily in pack’n’play and smiled.

Jeff frowned at the cuticle scissors Alex was using on his neglected nail beds. “Well, I guess we can’t keep it from them any longer.” Jeff looked solemnly at Mark, Sterling, and Jim. “Jared has been driving nails up his arms. We think it’s some kind of YouTube challenge.”

Mark rolled his eyes and looked at Jared expectantly. 

Jared grimaced. “It’s my dialysis, that’s all. It’s no big thing.” He glanced between Sterling, Jim, and Mark. “Don’t look at me like that. Having little Jeffrey Dean put too much strain on my kidneys, and now they’re toast. My nephrologist said that might happen.” 

“That’s all?” Mark yelped. “That’s all, he says. Jared, I’ve seen you get more upset about a barbecue stain on a hoodie.” 

“Do you do this dialysis forever?” Alexander asked quietly.

Jared looked at the four of them, the concern so apparent on all of their faces. “Well, I could, I suppose, but that’s not real convenient when you’re chasing after Jeffrey Dean II.” He shrugged lightly. “So I’ll just have a kidney transplant and I’ll be fine.”

Mark dropped Jared’s hand and sat back. “Oh, it’s that easy, is it? Please, Jared, don’t bullshit a bullshitter.”

“They do them all the time in Ft. Worth,” Jared said calmly. “Three or four a week. It’s the nephrology hub in Texas.”

“Oh! They do,” Alexander agreed. “Our Sunday school class was just praying for a relative in Dallas having one the other week.”

Jim squinted between Jared and Jeff. “But the hard part is finding the kidney, right? Without you and Jensen leaving some threesome pickup in a bathtub full of ice?”

Jared swallowed. “First of all – ew. Never tell me what you imagine Jensen and me doing.”

Sterling shook his head. “No, no I can totally see Jensen doing that.”

Dean fussed and Jared started to get up but Jim waved him back and then came back dangling the baby before he said down heavily and let Dean crawl all over him.

Jared looked back at Mark. “You’re not wrong, though. Some people on dialysis wait for years.” He chewed on his bottom lip and stared into the foamy purple solution in the soaking bowl.

Mark sat back and sighed. “Well, that sounds like my idea of Hell.”

Jared dried his hands and lay them flat on the buffing cloth again and Mark took up his buffer.

“I’m sure it is. Hell,” Jared said softly. “I’m lucky, though, I don’t have to wait.” He turned to look at Jeff who was patiently holding his hands out for Alexander to paint a clear coat. “Daddy’s going to give me one of his kidneys.”

Everyone was silent for a moment, and then Jim cleared his throat. “I’m sure you’ve already worked this out, son, but if I had to pick one of your parents with the least pickled organs, it wouldn’t be your Daddy.”

“Hey!” Jeff barked, and then jumped up and snatched Dean back from Jim. “No baby for you.”

Jared laughed at Alexander’s exasperated huff as Jeff smeared his top coat. “Daddy was my match, and he’s fine, we’ve already established that. He was happy that it was going to be him.”

Mark blinked rapidly. “Er, um, Jared, did you want a clear coat, Jared?” His voice broke and he cleared his throat gruffly.

Jared stared at Mark for a second. “Um, sure? Just basic. Like I always get – buffed and then a clear coat. Thanks, Mark.” Jared shot a concerned look at Sterling.

Sterling leaned forward, attempting to give Mark time to marshal his dignity. “So when is this happening?” he asked.

“We check in tomorrow afternoon in Ft. Worth,” Jared said. He looked at his clean and shiny nails and smiled at Mark. “Thanks, Mark. I really needed to feel good today.”

Mark swallowed hard. 

Jeff attempted to hold Dean on one knee and free his hands from Alex. “Am I done? I’ve been in this damn dryer thing so long I think one hand is smaller than the other.”

>>>>>>>>>>

_July 7_

_Westlake Market H-E-B_

Sterling walked briskly around H-E-B with Jim trailing him and pushing the grocery cart. The fluorescent lights and cheery Fourth of July decorations dangling above Jim’s head further highlighted the difference between his scruffy appearance and his dapper companion's.

Sterling made a beeline for the butcher counter and began tossing packages of short ribs, cube steak, and ground beef into the cart. Jim stared morosely into the cart and ate pork rinds out of an open bag. 

“I shouldn’t have said that,” Jim finally said.

“Said what?” Sterling asked, his body disappearing from the shoulders up into a walk in cooler for whole fryers and boneless, skinless breasts.

“Back at the salon,” Jim said. He tossed a rind at Sterling. “I said I’d be better off when my body wears out. I shouldn’t have said that in front of Jared. And I didn’t mean that.”

Sterling headed toward the grocery aisles. “Jim,” he said, not unkindly, “nobody pays any attention to you. It’s one of the perks of being a curmudgeon. Embrace it.” 

Jim kicked the cart’s squeaky wheel. “But I feel bad, Sterling. I’m a shitty person.”

“No, you’re not,” Sterling answered. “You’d give your dog a kidney if he needed one.”

Jim nodded slowly. “Yes.”

Sterling stopped at an endcap of canned goods and began tossing can after can of charro beans into the cart. Jim counted twenty of them before he had to say something.

“Sterling! This is just a gesture. We are not feeding Jeffrey Dean Morgan through the end of the world!”

Sterling looked back at him and then threw in three more cans. “Jeff loves charro beans. Eats ‘em with everything.”

Jim sucked the barbecue dust off his thumb. “Huh. That actually explains a lot.”

<<<<<<   
  


_July 7_

_Morgan Home, Woodview Court, Westlake Hills, TX_

“Did you know that England doesn’t have a Kidney Bank?” Colin asked Jared as his older brother shuffled cards. 

“Really,” Jared. He looked expectantly at Colin as he drank a can of La Croix.

“But they have a LIVERpool!” Colin chortled. 

Jared groaned and Samantha rolled her eyes as she sat down with a giant bowl of popcorn. Jared smiled indulgently at his brother, and then reached across the table, taking his mother’s hand. “Hey,” he said quietly.

“Hey,” she smiled back.

“C’mon, y’all,” Jared called to Jensen and Jeff. “Texas Hold ‘Em.”

“Hang on,” Jensen said, as he lined up a shot on the pool table. “Imma ‘bout to take your Daddy for everything he’s got.”

“I’m already taking his kidney,” Jared said mildly. “We should leave the man _something_.”

“Okay,” Samantha said. She picked up Dean as he toddled over to her. “Enough with the transplant jokes. They’re gruesome. Hey, baby boy, who’s Nana’s favorite?”

“I thought I was your favorite,” Colin said, affronted.

“You,” Samantha said, which a gentle pat to her youngest son’s cheek, “have been the prime offender with kidney jokes.”

“I’m a Zoomer,” Colin said mock pitifully. “I’ve never learned proper social interaction.”

Jared boomed a big laugh and shoved his brother playfully. He sprawled back in the comfortable game table chair, his always over-heated body clad in a long flannel shirt of Jensen’s, a pair of boxer briefs, and burnt orange UT slides. He scratched the back of his shorter hair, frowning as he felt his new, bare nape.

Jensen met his eyes across the room. “All right?” he mouthed. Jared nodded with a lazy grin.

Jared looked at his beautiful blue-eyed boy in his mother’s arms and had to look away before he made things weird with a teary outburst. He scanned the rest of the room, the homey yellow and tan colors of the den, the sandstone outdoor kitchen glowing golden in the last rays of sunset. The book lined wall, his old nursing texts stuffed somewhere in there with his mom’s classics and his dad’s Zane Grey. The purple stain by the French doors where he and his best friend from high school had spilled an entire tub of Cowboy Kool-Aid trying to cover up a party his parents hadn’t known about.

And his family. Colin tossing popcorn at an oblivious Brock, who was bragging loudly to their mother about how he was going to clean them out at poker after youtubing Vegas All-Stars. His beautiful mother, rubbing a soothing hand over her grandson’s back while splitting her attention between him and her irascible teenage sons.

His Dad dropping a crisp $50 into his husband’s outstretched hand. Jensen’s dorky victory dance at smoking his father-in-law at pool.

Jensen strolled across the room toward him with heated eyes. “Jared,” he said, perching on Jared’s bare knee. “I just had to tell you,” Jensen nuzzled Jared’s ear, his tongue flicking the hollow, “looking at you across the room, you looked so…” Jensen’s teeth scraped Jared’s neck, “fucking sappy, are you _stoned_? And if you are, are you gonna share?”

Jared pushed a laughing Jensen off his lap. “Fucker. I was having a genuine moment.”

Jensen dropped down into the seat next to Jared and patted his thigh. “You gonna deal sometime soon, sugar?”

Jared’s dimples flashed and he dealt hands around the table as the Morgans took their seats.

“Okay, okay,” Colin said a couple of hands later, “what did the mama kidney stone say to the baby kidney stone?”

“What?” Jared asked gleefully.

“I’m sorry, your father passed last night,” Brock laughed. He had popcorn stuck in his braces and Jared laughed and pointed at him.

“Okay,” Samantha said with a glare around the table. “Enough. I’m serious. The first few were cute but they’re getting tackier as the night goes on.” She rocked a sleeping Dean against her shoulder.

“Right, right, sorry,” Jared nodded. He and his dad shared a look of commiseration. Brock and Colin’s jokes had really diffused the worry for them, but he knew his mom was at the end of her patience. “Okay, blinds are still only 3-6, still a lot of poker to play. Colin’s deal.”

Hands were dealt and bet, ones were cashed in, and fives became the lowest currency. With a moratorium on tasteless jokes, play grew serious and the competitive players (Jared, Jensen, Jeff, and Brock) quickly weeded out the good time players (Samantha and Colin).

“I’m all in with $100,” Jeff said. He looked around the table and took another drink of his Fiji water.

“Whew, too rich for me,” Samantha said, standing. “I’m going to change Stinky Pete here and put him down for the night.” She walked toward the guest room and Jeff quirked a brow at Jensen and Jared, waiting for their play.

Jensen leaned closer to Jeff. “Hey, uh, Jeff, all kidding aside, did you know that Chuck Norris once passed 6 kidney stones?” 

A slow grin spread across Jeff’s face. “Oh, yeah?” 

Jensen nodded, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “And then Thanos stole them from The Avengers and destroyed half the universe.”

Jared tossed his head back with a laugh and clapped with a whoop, while Brock and Colin threw popcorn at Jensen.

“Okay, one more before your Mama gets back,” Jeff rasped, leaning forward, “Why are people so rude when they have kidney failure?” The boys shook their heads. “It’s like they have no filter.” 

The boys groaned long, low and loud and Sam called from the bathroom, “Jeffrey? Are you talking shit in there?” 

“No, ma’am,” Jeff piped up, with a wink to Jared. 

Sam walked back into the den drying her hands. “Who won?” 

“Daddy,” Brock said, stacking the chips back into their slots. “Like _always_.” 

“Jared and Jensen gave me a good run,” Jeff said, throwing his arms around his son and son-in-law’s necks. “We headed to bed, Mama?” 

“Ew,” Jared said, ducking under his father’s arm. “Don’t call her Mama in that tone of voice when I’m standing here in my underwear. Yech.” He gave a full-body shudder and then looped his arms around Jensen’s waist. “You ready to take me to bed, Daddy?” he purred.

“Okay, that’s all of us freaked out,” Jeff muttered. 

“And it’s only like 9:00 o’clock,” Colin blurted, throwing his hands up. 

“Well, your brother and Daddy have to get up pretty early in the morning,” Sam said, patting Colin on the back. “It’s almost a three-hour drive to Ft. Worth, and then I’ll be leaving to join them soon after, once we get you all settled at Uncle Jim’s and Baby Dean with Jensen’s mother.”

Colin leaned his head against his mother’s shoulder. “I don’t want Daddy to go,” he said, low. “I’m scared something’s gonna happen to him.” He rubbed his cheek against her soft sweatshirt. “And Jared, too, but mostly Daddy,” he whispered.

“I heard that,” Jared snipped from the couch where he and Jared were scanning through Hulu. “It’s my just my kidneys that are wonky – my ears aren’t even 30 yet!” 

“Hey, Mama,” Colin murmured softly.

Sam reached up and pressed his cheek against hers. “What is it, baby?” 

“Kidney transplant? Urine luck!”   
  


<<<<<<<<<<<<<

  
_July 8_  
_Alex's bungalow, Tarrytown, Austin, TX_

Alex tripped down the steps in his dress boots, jogging toward Mark’s Corvette. “I overslept! I was up late cooking because I wanted to take something that freezes beautifully, and now I’ve got to get these beans to the Morgans so they can freeze them, and it’s my Sunday to read the Scripture, and I just know I’m going to miss church!”

Mark walked around the ‘Vette to open the passenger door. “Alexander. Calm down. Do I need to turn the hose on you?”

Alex juggled his Bible, satchel, and plastic container of beans. “Oh, I just don’t know what to do.”

Mark pointed to the passenger seat. “Well, I know what you’re going to do: you’re going to get in this car, we’ll take the beans by the Morgans, and then you are coming to church with me.”

Alex sat up from placing his beans on the floorboard. “Oh. To the Catholic church?” He cleared his throat, fidgeting with the crease in his khaki slacks. “I don’t know…” 

Mark slid into the driver’s seat and said, “Saint Ignatius the Martyr, named as a house of worship should be named. What’s yours called again, dear? ‘The Connection’?” Mark smirked as the Corvette started with a purr.

Alex buckled his seat belt, watching the streets of Tarrytown give way to the tree-lined boulevards of Westlake Hills. “Oh, I don’t know,” he murmured again.

Mark patted Alex’s knee. “Trust me, love, God doesn’t care what church you go to, as long as you show up.” He patted his breast pocket. “Preferably with checkbook in hand.”

_Spirit of God in the clear running water_

_Blowing to greatness the trees on the hill._

_Spirit of God in the finger of morning:_

_Fill the earth, bring it to birth,_

_And blow where you will._

_Blow, blow, blow till I be_

_But the breath of the Spirit blowing in me._

Jim entered Saint Ignatius late and crept down the side aisle just as the choir was filling the loft. He made eye contact with a tall, grey-bearded black man in a deep purple choir robe and offered a clandestine wink.

He slipped into the first pew with an empty end seat and cleared his throat. He looked around the church, nodding politely to familiar faces. He straightened his suit jacket and upset a hymnal that tumbled to the kneeler.

As he sat back up from retrieving it, he came face to face with Mark who was leaning into his pew from the row behind.

“Why, James,” Mark said with delight. “Whatever brings you here?”

“Shut up.” 

Mark wrinkled his nose at a disapproving Alexander and poked Jim’s shoulder. “It may have been a while since I’ve seen him, but isn’t that tall drink of brawn and baritone you were flirting with Steven Williams? The very Steven Williams who attends services with Jensen and Jared at First Presbyterian in Dripping Springs? My, my. Worked fast to not only convert but fill a front row choir seat, as well.” 

“ _Shut. Up_.” 

“Now, now,” Mark tutted. “Looks like Jared might have opened that can of worms for you, after all.”

Mark’s great-nephew Sebastian leaned around his uncle and shared, sotto voce, “As a Westlake Hills denizen, I can report that the Native Cottage Gardening van stops by Mr. Jimbo’s house at least twice a week.” 

Jim shrugged. “He knows I like to garden. Everyone knows that, I’ve got my picture made in the paper more than once for my begonias.” 

“You all know of my great-nephew, Sebastian Roche-Lehne, yes?” Mark murmured. Sebastian’s face flamed as yes, everyone did know of him. “He’s in disgrace at the moment, so Uncle Mark has taken him on his new rehabilitation project.” Mark glanced at Alexander’s drab church wear and stern face. “Hopefully, this one takes.”

“And I can report, thanks to Mother,” Sebastian preened, “that a strange car is parked in Mr. Jimbo’s garage at least once a week.” 

Jim nodded vigorously as the choir seated themselves. “There. My secret is out. I am having an affair with a Mercedes-Benz.” 

Alexander bugged his eyes out at them. “We are in the house of the _Lord_.” 

“Oh, like he’s worried,” Mark said, sitting back with a grin. “Jimbo’s never done a religious thing in his life.” 

Jim turned and faced Mark full on. “Now, that is not true. When I was in college, a bunch of my frat brothers and I would dress up as nuns and go bar-hopping.”

_Holy, holy, holy!_

_Merciful and mighty_

_God in three persons_

_Blessed Trinity!_

Jim swiped a hand over his sweaty head as he quickly walked to his Range Rover, eager to get home before he was accosted by either Mark Sheppard or Steven Williams, and not quite sure which would be worse. 

“Jimbo, I’m sorry, but I’ve just dying to ask you this—” 

Mark, then. Jim sighed and turned around. “Yeah?” he bit out. 

“Are you and Steven…you know?” Mark flickered both hands, winking. 

“In a Jazz Dance Duo?” Jim asked with a lifted brow. 

“Wait,” Mark said, as Sebastian caught up to him. “I have to get a mental picture of this… Steven in stilettos and a leather bustier...”

Jim’s nostrils flared.

“Oh, honestly, Jim. What are you gonna tell me that I don't do to myself just for kicks every Friday night?” Mark asked. Sebastian took a quick step back from his Uncle with an apologetic smile as a family with six children scooted around them on the sidewalk. 

“Not that this is any one anyone else’s business,” Jim answered, forcing Mark into a stare down, “but no, we’re friends. He would like more and I’m working on that. But I am old and set in my ways.” 

“ _You_ are playing hard to get!” Mark said with a victorious grin. 

“At his age he should be playing beat the clock,” Sebastian muttered as he followed his uncle to the car.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "After all, this isn't Wall Street..." is paraphrased from SPN 7.8 "Season Seven: Time for a Wedding"
> 
> There's TV Insider article where Jared and Jensen both talk about Tom Hardy, but the link is currently broken. Here's Jensen talking about him Comic Con 2015: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zlrncGrfQig
> 
> I don't know if readers not alive in the early 80s/early 90s will know Jose Eber, but he was (is) a Hollywood hair stylist to the stars notable for his feathered cowboys hats. I thought he was more in character for Mark to mention than a millennial youtube blogger. In the original Steel Magnolias film, the line is that Truvy will paint her door red and change her name to Elizabeth Arden.
> 
> I was very entertained about all the transplant jokes I found on counseling websites for folks going through kidney failure/kidney transplants.
> 
> Vinnie (for whom I wrote this fic) is a non-practicing Catholic from TX and I am a progressive Methodist from OK. Steel Magnolias has a LOT of Christianity in it. I toned it down quite a bit, but left enough to remain true to the Bible Belt's new breed of queer affirming churches.
> 
> "Stilettos and a leather bustier" are from SPN 9.2: "Devil May Care"
> 
> Songs Used:
> 
> "Spirit of God" and "Holy, Holy, Holy" are both traditional Christian hymns.


	7. Men are Supposed to Be Made Out of Steel

_July 9_

_Medical City Fort Worth Transplant Institute, Fort Worth, TX_

Jensen cleared his throat. “You’ve done this a lot,” he said, his voice gruff.

Samantha looked up from her iPhone to Jensen’s tense face. She set her phone aside and laced her fingers together on her lap. She nodded. “Yes. Nothing like this…nothing this invasive, and certainly not with both Jared _and_ Jeff.” She swallowed.

Jensen leaned forward, his hands clasped between his knees. “You know, when I made promises to Jared about how I’d always be there for him, I was always thinking about _him_. What he would need from me, how I could be strong for him. It never occurred to me how scared _I_ would be.”

Samantha smiled sadly. “Now you know what’s driven Jeff and me for the past 15 years.”

Jensen nodded, and then sat back. He throat worked for a few minutes. “It’s a nice room, anyway,” he offered weakly.

Samantha nodded slowly and looked around the private suite. The colors were creamy and pale, with natural light flooding in from a window that overlooked the meditation garden. The suite would comfortably seat a family of 10 and provided books, magazines, snacks, and beverages, as well as plenty of charging ports and a flat screen TV.

She smiled.

“What?” Jensen asked.

She shook her head. “Oh, it’s nothing, just a silly stray thought.”

“Hey, if it's a good thought, share it,” Jared said earnestly.

“When Colin was born in 2008, we had a state-of-the-art birthing suite at Methodist. The bed was a real bed with room for all three of us, there was a pool for a water birth, and they were very accepting of midwives and doulas.” She laughed lightly. “But the television was a 19-inch wall mount, and they only had a VCR! The only films Jeff and I still had on VHS at that point were the original _Star Wars_ movies, so I labored for 14 hours and re-watched all three. I never see Harrison Ford without thinking of Jeff wanting me to agree to ‘Solo’ as Colin’s middle name.”

Jensen laughed. “I’m guessing he didn’t win that argument.”

Samantha snorted. “Of course not. I knew Colin Skywalker Morgan was going to be the last child I’d give birth to, and _I_ was going to get to pick the name.”

Jensen's jaw dropped. “You’re shitting me.”

Samantha shook her head. “It’s in the family Bible and everything.”

Jensen was floored. “You are cooler than I ever knew.”

_RING_

The two of them exchanged a look and then Samantha reached for the wall extension. “This is Samantha Morgan,” she answered. “He is. Good, good,” she said softly. “Thank you. Yes, I will be. I appreciate you.”

She turned back to Jensen. “Jeff’s surgery is officially underway. He was successfully anesthetized and the laparoscopy to remove the kidney has started. His vitals are good.” Her hands tightened in her lap. “Three or so more hours to go.”

“And then we wait for Jared’s,” Jensen said.

She nodded. “And then we wait for Jared’s.”

<<<<<<<<<<<

By the time Dr. Khan and Dr. Sloane entered the Special Procedures Suite, Jensen and Samantha had been joined by Mark, Sterling, and Jim, who were in the midst of a spirited game of Hearts.

Samantha reached for Jensen’s hand.

“Looks good,” Dr. Sloane drawled. “Looks _real_ good.”

Sam sagged against Jensen. Mark slid an arm around Sterling’s shoulders and squeezed.

“Mr. Morgan is now fully awake,” Dr. Khan said. “You saw him briefly after he was out of anesthesia?” she asked Sam.

She nodded. “Yes. He was alert enough to complain about his catheter,” she said ruefully.

Dr. Khan smiled. “He will be able to see visitors other than his spouse tomorrow morning. Visiting begins at 8:30 a.m.”

“And Jared?” Jensen asked.

“Jared will be in monitored recovery for another hour or so,” Dr. Sloane answered. Jensen’s face fell and Dr. Sloane smiled and said, “The new kidney is already working.”

Jensen let out a hoarse sobbing breath and then shook his head, turning away. “Sorry, I’m sorry.”

“Shut up,” Samantha said and wrapped her arms around him.

“You’ll get another call from the nurse’s station when Jared’s out of anesthesia,” Dr. Sloane said, “but I think I can arrange for you to look in on him, just for a moment, if you want to come with me.”

Jensen lifted his head from Sam’s shoulder. “Really? Yeah, yeah, let’s do that.” He coughed and gathered himself and then followed the surgeon from the room.

“You have the number for the nurse’s station,” Dr. Khan stated. “Volunteers will be back on campus at 7:00 to facilitate your needs, but as of now, Mrs. Morgan, you are free to visit Mr. Morgan or make your evening arrangements.” She extended a hand and Samantha took it, squeezing it gently.

“Thank you,” she said softly and Dr. Khan gave her an answering squeeze and left the room.

Samantha pressed steepled fingers against her lips. Her knees were weak, her eyes were burning and gritty, but she felt lighter than she had years.

“Oh, _please_ ,” Mark said in disgust.

Samantha whirled to face him. “What?” she gasped.

Mark tossed the post-surgery packet back on the table. “‘The remaining kidney will increase in size to compensate for the loss of the donated kidney’,” he quoted. “I’m going to spend the rest of my life listening to Jeff Morgan brag about his ‘big organ’.”

<<<<<<<<<<<

_October 25_

_Men of Lathers Salon_

Men of Lathers was dressed for autumn in every shade of amber and rust, pumpkin and honey, and persimmon and flame. When Alex had piled the pumpkins, misted the mums, and burlap-bowed the last cornstalk, Mark had quipped that it only needed Jared posing with a blanket scarf and a pumpkin latte to be a triumphant harvest hurrah. 

Rain misted the pumpkins as Matt and Alex pulled up in the salon’s drive. Matt was giving up the first day of archery white tail deer season to help Alex with inventory, the $100 each Mark had offered them a definite incentive.

Alex stared at the cheerful autumn portico and then sighed. “Sooner we start the sooner we’re done, I guess.”

They dashed up the steps in the rain, Alex opening the salon with his key. He stopped short when he saw the blackout curtain separating the main salon from the kitchenette, storage room, and service porch. 

“Is Mark having something painted?” Matt asked. “Or renovated?” 

Alex shrugged. “Not that he told me. Oh, well, it won’t matter once we’re in the storage room.” He pulled back the black curtain and turned on the kitchenette light, only to be attacked by Dracula, The Mummy, Frankenstein, The Werewolf, and a Red Devil yelling “Surprise!” 

Alex screamed. 

Matt kicked the devil. 

The devil yelled, “Oi! I said ‘Surprise!’ Basic party etiquette is that you gasp and say, ‘Oh, I had no idea!’ not batter my bloody shin!”

Matt winced. “Sorry! Mark, I can’t believe this. It doesn’t even seem like something you would do.”

Mark slipped off his red devil mask, smoothing his Caesar cut. “Too true, too true. But it _is_ something Jared and Jensen would do and of course want to stick me with the catering bill and the clean-up. Plus if I were ever going to host a shower, it would be one with a monster motif.” He held up a Pez Witch party favor. “But that’s what you get for getting married on Halloween!”

Dracula-Jensen tossed his cape over the lower half of his face and said, “Good evening! Vhat a treat to have a young couple such as yourselves wander into our nightmare. Mwaha, mwaha, okay, these teeth suck.” He spit his fangs out and said, “Y’all want a beer, punch, or Jeff made a pitcher of Salty Dogs?”

While Jensen took care of beverages, Mummy-Sterling seated Matt and Alex in mismatched antique chairs at the head of the table. “Please,” Sterling said, gesturing to the catering spread from The Kebab Shop, “enjoy the food of my homeland. Or as close as Texas can come to it.”

Alex laughed, and Sterling grinned at him in surprise.

Frankenstein’s hazel eyes danced behind his plastic mask as he and the Red Devil carried in a gorgeous deep red cake covered in black roses with ‘Til Death Do Us Part’ scrolled down the layers.

Franken-Jared set it careful in the center of the table and said, “Obviously Luc’s contribution.”

“Oh,” Alex said, eyes wide. “Tell him thank you. It’s terrifying and beautiful!”

The Wolfman pulled off his plastic mask, sat down, crossed his arms and said, “My part in this silliness is done.”

Matt smiled at him. “But it was appreciated, Mr. Jimbo.”

“Where’s your Dad?” Alex asked Jared as he pulled more chairs into the small kitchen area.

“He went to get the rest of the guests,” Jared answered.

Alex frowned, confused.

“I found her,” Jeff called as he held the curtain open for a slender, dark-haired girl around Alex’s age to enter. Her eyes searched the room for Alex, and then her posture relaxed. She gave Alex a tiny wave.

“Look, Alex,” said Mark, “we’ve invited your friend Zenia from church!”

“Oh, Zenia,” Alex said. “Hello.” 

Zenia took a seat across from Alex and looked around the room. “Wow. When you said you mostly hung out in a hair salon with a bunch of middle aged guys, that wasn’t some kind of gay slang, huh?”

Jared folded back his Frankenstein mask. “Hey! I’m _barely_ twenty-eight!”

“Well, mostly,” Mark said doubtfully. “Parts of you are fifty-four.”

“Fifty-three, thank you,” Jeff corrected.

Mark glanced at Jeff and then did a double take. “Where the hell is your costume?” Mark rasped, gesturing to his own red suit.

Jeff gestured at his boots and jeans. “I'm a cowboy. Yee-haw.”

<<<<<<<<<<<

“Okay,” Jared said, as he scribbled down the gift list. “That was two mani-pedis and two deep conditioning treatments at your convenience from Mark.” 

“Cheap!” Jensen coughed into his hand. 

“I am hosting the wedding,” Mark said pointedly. “ _And_ I introduced them.” 

“You did not,” Jared sputtered. “ _I_ did at my wedding. If Alex hadn’t been wandering around so pitifully in Jensen’s linen suit with the sleeves down past his palms, Matt would have never seen him for all of his twink possibilities!” 

Jensen let his jacket sleeves droop past his wrists. “His leetle hands!” 

“Well, it was my idea that he attend your wedding in the first place,” Mark said as he poured another Salty Dog. “I remember it vividly.” 

“Whatever,” Jared said, “if it weren’t for me and my Daddy’s generous open bar, Matty would still be asking the high school kids where all the cool parties are this weekend, and Alex would still think he was married to the manager at Top Golf.” 

“What?” Matt asked, confused.

Alex sent Jared a pleading _shut the eff up_ look. 

Jared sputtered. “Ignore me. I’ve recently had surgery. And I have the bad sugar.” 

Jensen buried a laugh in his glass. 

“Next present!” Sterling dropped a gift opulently wrapped in black jacquard paper on Alex’s lap. 

Alex ripped into the gift and then stared in horrified fascination at the black tissue paper framed contents. The black, red, leather, sheer, mesh, Velcro, beaded, ribbed, knotted, and shimmering contents. 

“The card says, ‘Better late than never’,” Sterling reported. 

“ _Ow_! Look out, Matty!” Jensen said. 

Matt paled. 

“Who’s that from?” Jeff asked. 

“It’s not signed,” Jared said, looking over Sterling’s shoulder. 

“Let me see that,” Mark demanded. He cast a jaundiced eye down the table. “Jimbo.” 

“WUT,” Jimbo muttered into his highball glass. 

“As the recipient of many of your cheques, I’d recognize this penmanship anywhere,” Mark said. “You have the handwriting of a serial killer.” 

“Alexander,” Jim said, “I just thought Matthew wouldn’t mind you reading the Bible in bed as long as you were wearing something inspirational.” He smiled benevolently. 

Jared wrote frantically, cataloguing the items for the thank you cards. “Is ball gag hyphenated?” 

“It’s two separate words,” Mark said. 

“How do you know that, Mark? Ha ha ha ha,” Jared quipped. 

“Didn’t anyone want to get us a toaster?” Matt said faintly. 

“That’s for a home shower, like you’d have at church or work,” Jared explained. “This is a personal shower, so you get uh, personal, with your friends.” 

Jensen looked at Zenia. “Hi, I’m homosexual. My husband is gay.” 

“This is from Jared and Jensen,” Jeff said, passing the next gift over. Matt opened it to find several pairs of SAXX underwear with the ballpark pouch. 

“That’s a high-ticket item,” Zenia said. “I work at the Nordstrom’s outlet, and even discounted they’re still $20.00 a pair.” 

Jensen smiled roguishly and shrugged. “Well, when you bill $400 an hour, it’s all about the little luxuries.” 

“Hello!” Jared said. “ _I_ bought those, _and_ I’m an RN. Starting salary in Peds was $70k a year! Well, I’m sorry, but everyone acts like I’m a Candy Striper in an 80s movie, but I went to school! I took _statistics_!” 

Jensen kissed Jared on the cheek in a conciliatory fashion. 

“Speaking of,” Jared said as he rose and handed his clipboard to Sterling. “I’ve got to go – I’m on call tomorrow and I need to get some rest.” He wrapped his scarf around his neck and exchanged a nod with Jensen.

“Good boy,” Jeff said. Jensen and Jared rolled their eyes. 

Jared leaned over and gave Matt and Alex kisses on their cheeks. “Congratulations, guys. The best I can wish for you is that you’re as happy as Jensen and I are.” 

<<<<<<<<

_October 31_

_Men of Lathers Salon_

“Here you go, Mr. Sheppard,” the pink-cheeked delivery boy said as he handed Mark a crackling cellophane wrapped bottle of champagne. 

“Thank you, darling,” Mark said as he pressed a tip into the young man’s hand. “And if this doesn’t work on my partner, maybe you can come back later.” 

The delivery boy laughed, his blonde curls blowing in the fall breeze. “Yes, sir, thank you.” 

“Looks like someone's husband is coming home tonight,” Alexander said with an almost wicked gleam in his eye. 

“Well,” Mark said as he walked into the kitchenette, “when you’ve been driving through Mexico in an open-air Cadillac looking for exotic plants behind every pueblo, all you want to do when you get home is sleep. But I’m gonna do everything I can to keep him _up_.” 

“Deadwood Dick’s real name was Nat Love!” Sterling announced from the restroom. 

“Who’s Nat Love?” Jim asked as Alex leaned him back and spread wax underneath his nostrils. 

Sterling flushed the toilet and walked out of the restroom with a copy of _Texas_ magazine. “He was the real-life identity of Deadwood Dick!” 

“Is that a cowboy porn star?” Jim asked. 

“No,” Sterling said, exasperated. “He was one of the most famous black cowboys and rodeo stars in the American West.” Sterling looked at Jim over his reading glasses. “You know, of course, that one in four cowboys was African-American.”

“Well, of course I knew that,” Jim groused. “I’ve seen _Lonesome Dove_.” 

“I’m just trying to expose us to a little more culture,” Sterling shrugged.

“You work in the Diversity Office at the capitol and I teach religious iconography,” Jim said. “That’s more culture than most folks will ever need.” 

“I mean enriching culture, not just cultural awareness,” Sterling said. Sterling’s eyes lit up behind his glasses. “Hey, Jim! Why don’t you and I take a theater trip to New York?” 

“Bah!” Jim shuddered. “I don’t want to expose myself to anything. Especially not to New York crowds and prices.” Jim’s leg kicked out as Alex ripped a waxing strip off of his nose. 

“Well, _I’m_ going to make more of an effort to support more non-European, non-Western kitsch arts in this area,” Sterling said. 

“I’ll write a check,” Jim barked. He grimaced. “I support art, I just don’t want to have to see it.” 

“It’s not like it would put your immortal soul in jeopardy,” Mark said drolly. 

“Listen, you fancy farts,” Jim said, “I’m gonna get one thing straight with you: I don’t see plays because I can nap at home for free. And I don’t go to movies because they’re _trash_. And they got nothing but naked people in them! And I don’t read books because if they’re any good they’re gonna make a Netflix series about ‘em.” 

Sterling crossed his arms and gave Jim an indulgent look. “You know, you would be a much more contented, pleasant person if you would find stimulating ways to occupy your time.”

Jim sat up abruptly, almost knocking Alex into the counter. “I’m _pleasant_ ! Dammit! I just saw Jeffrey Dean Morgan at the Texaco this morning and I _smiled_ at the son of bitch before I could help myself!” 

Alex succeeded in ripping out a recalcitrant hair with tweezers and Jim howled. “Oh!” Alex exclaimed, “I’m so sorry, Mr. Beaver!”

“Alexander?” Jim muttered, injured in both nose and dignity, “you can take your Bible and shove it where the sun doesn’t shine.” 

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

_October 31_ _st_

_Ackles Home, W Cave Loop, Dripping Springs, TX_

Jared grinned as he watched Dean wobble around the patio in his wee cowboy boots. Dean stopped on his circuit of his known world to point out planters, pumpkins and the pond, each with an enthusiastic, “Dat!” 

Jared turned his attention back to his cellphone. “I just put the cowboy outfit on him and I think I’ve taught him to say Trick or Treat or—” Jared caught his balance against the side of the chimenea as a wave of dizziness hit him. He swallowed and sat down on the porch steps. “…or something kind of like it.”

Jensen chuckled. “Okay, I’ll be home in about an hour, finishing up here. Can’t wait to take my little cowpoke to Nana and Pop-Pop’s and Aunt Ruth’s for his first Halloween.” 

Jared closed his eyes and took slow careful breaths, determined not to freak Jensen out. “Me, too.” He looked back through the open patio door into the kitchen where a pot of water steamed on the stovetop. “Okay, I’m going to start some spaghetti here in a minute, then. Love you.”

“Love you too, babe.”

Jared called Dean to him and the toddler held out his arms, beaming as he ran to his Papa. Jared caught him around the waist, grinning down at the cockeyed Stetson on his son’s head. “Okay, buddy, we got your little duds on, and then when Daddy gets home, we’ll get your pumpkin and go see Nana and Pop-Pop! Now, let’s go in and make some spaghetti!” Jared lifted Dean high to look into his face, and something in his side burned like hot steel. He dropped to one knee, being sure to cup a hand protectively around the back of Dean’s head. “Ahhhh!”

Jared settled a careful hand over his kidney bump. The surgical pain had long since faded, and there was no pressure pain now. Just the initial powerful burning, followed by waves of dizziness and a blooming anxiety. “Oh. Dean. Oh. Okay, Okay.” Jared fumbled for the phone he’d dropped when he’d overbalanced. “Let’s call, Daddy, okay?”

He set Dean on his feet and the toddler pointed at the cell next to porch steps and stated proudly, “Dat!”

Jared swallowed hard and reached for the cell again. His fingers just brushed it, and then everything went dark.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Jensen opened the front door and was greeted by the familiar scents of vanilla, polished wood, and crayon. The house was still this side of too-neat from their weekly house cleaning service, and silent but for the sound Dean’s sobbing. A pot of water boiled violently on the stovetop. Dean’s cries grew louder as Jensen jogged into the kitchen, concerned.

“Jared? I’m home, darlin’. Jared?” Jensen saw Dean sitting in the doorway to the patio and quickly ran to him. “Buddy, buddy. It’s okay!” He kissed the boy’s red cheeks and held him closer to try to calm his gasping sobs. “Papa actually tell you no –”

Jensen looked out onto the patio and saw Jared sprawled at the foot of the steps, his cellphone broken next to him. 

“Oh, my God. Jared. Jared, baby. _Jared_.” 

<<<<<<<

_November 1_  
_Medical City Fort Worth Transplant Institute, Fort Worth, TX_

“His creatinine levels are at about 986. They _were_ down to 110. We are looking at adjusting his immunosuppressant medication…”

“Key to a successful living donor transplant are the post-surgical medications and the healthy lifestyle…”

“Medically-induced coma…”

Jeff sat with his head resting on Jared’s non-IV hand and just allowed Samantha and Jensen to absorb the information from the medical team. Rejection, life support, or recovery would all he would need to hear, anyway.

He prayed as he had not since he was a high school football player foolishly wasting his grace on the promises of a season championship. Jared’s hand in his was so warm. His boy always ran so hot; thermally strong and emotionally warm. _God, please_.

“Where’s Baby Dean?” Samantha murmured.

“Aunt Ruth’s,” Jensen choked. “He was so scared.”

<<<<<<<

Samantha stood at the foot of the hospital bed, her tired eyes taking in every aspect of Jared’s face. Hospital pallor after less than eight hours. Eyes purpled both above and below. Lips leeched of color and dry. She made a mental note to check her purse for Chapstick. Heavily stubbled jaw and chin from not shaving the day before. But his hair curled around his ears as thick and shiny as always.

Samantha pressed her hands to her eyes and tried to hold back the tears. This was it, every fear she had held in her heart since he Jared had collapsed after a basketball game his sophomore year of high school.

 _Fight_ , she thought fiercely. _Defy this just like you have every limitation before. You showed me I was wrong about college, about working as an RN, about getting pregnant. Prove me wrong just one more time. Please, Jared_.

<<<<<<<

Jensen looked up as Jeff and Samantha left the room, giving him some privacy. _Fuck, that’s gotta hurt_ , he thought. He couldn’t imagine leaving Dean when he was this afraid for him. He let his face fall forward into his hands and let the tears come. He knew he didn’t have to stay stoic for Jeff and Sam, God knows they knew how he felt, but he had promised Jared he would stay strong.

He took a deep, shuddering breath. “You know…” his throat closed and he swallowed, trying again. “You know everything I ever watched on TV growing up…my Mom’s soap operas when I was little, and _E.R._ when I was a kid…all of those told me that you’re supposed to be able to hear me. So I’m gonna trust TV magic and believe you can.”

He tightened his grip on Jared’s hand and looked into his face. That Jared just looked like he was sleeping peacefully was no comfort. Jared was restless energy or controlled action. This peace was unsettling.

“I don’t know how hard I’m supposed to be taking this. Your doctors act like flushing your kidney and changing up your meds is going to fix everything, and that your body’s not rejecting it. And if that’s all it is, if they did make you sleep just so you can heal, that’s okay.” He nodded and reached up to slide his hand through Jared’s hair. “That would be okay. Because then I can look at our son and know that his Papa is coming home, and this will be something he’ll never even remember. But what I’m scared of is thinking that this is just your body healing, and then the machines start going off and people will start running in here and pushing me away from you and just tearing into you…” Jensen covered his mouth with his hand. “So I need to know if that’s gonna happen. Because I don’t want to be sittin’ telling you what I want to do next summer, or arguing about why I think it’s past time for Dean’s first haircut, or reading you some dumb meme off my phone, and then you get ripped away from me when I thought we were just taking a rest. So don’t do that. Don’t leave me, Jared. Please.”

<<<<<<<

Jeff sat under a tree in the mediation garden facing an uninspiring view of a Torchy’s Tacos’s parking lot and I-30. The picturesque scenery to his back featured far too much white marble angel statuary and felt more of the grave than of grace.

He took a drag from the cigarillo he had purchased at the gas station next door and coughed at its harsh burn in his throat. Wouldn’t Samantha have his ass for this, he thought. The dull buzz of nicotine and the mindless repetitive movement were almost enough to distract him from thoughts of her anger.

“Would we be interrupting something if we sat?” Sterling asked quietly from behind him.

Jeff shrugged, glancing over his shoulder. “You’d be the only one polite enough to ask,” he answered. “Sure. Sit. Whatever.”

Sterling, Mark, and Alex sat on the marble bench facing the tree. Jim stood behind them, his usually florid face pale and his eyes flat.

“How are you holding up?” Mark asked quietly.

Jeff raked his hand through his hair, feeling greasiness between his fingers. He smiled wryly knowing Mark had noticed. “Fine.” He took another deep drag.

“The, uh, nurses said you and Jensen and Sam haven’t left the hospital once,” Jim said eventually.

Jeff snorted. “Well, that’s a kind lie,” said. “Jensen meets Ruth in the cafeteria every day to see Dean. Tough bastard, Jensen. Holds that baby and listens to him ask for ‘Papa, Papa’ every day and goes back up Jared’s room and stares at his husband just lying there for hours.” Jeff took one last sharp inhale and then pitched the cigarillo at the parking lot. “I come out here when I can’t stand the quiet anymore. Sit here and glare like somebody gives a shit that I’m mad.”

He looked up at the four men he spent the most time with outside of his own family. “It’s Sam. Sam’s the one who hasn’t left. But she always knows when she should step out to let Jensen have time alone with him. That’s hard for me to do, ‘cause when I can stomach just sittin’ there, I sure as shit don’t want to share him. Men are supposed to be made out of steel or somethin’…but it’s Sam who never breaks.”

Jeff stood up with a groan. “She’s worried, and she’s sad, but she’s unbending.” Jeff shrugged. “Jensen’s gonna break if we lose him,” he said bleakly.

Jim’s hand dropped to Alex’s shoulder as the boy choked back a sob.

“But me?” Jeff grinned viciously. “I am just so fuckin’ angry. I’m _mad_. Because it’s not fuckin’ fair.” He clenched his fists and breathed deeply. “I could jog all the way to Louisiana and back, but my son _can’t_.”

Jeff’s restraint broke and he roared. “My son, my 6’5”, beautiful son who looks like a Greek fucking god doesn’t have the strength to lift his head. That boy who jumped out of trees, out his bedroom window, who leapt every time his mother and I begged him to walk. He’s full of delicate workings that never worked the way they should.”

Jeff turned a tear-ravaged face at them and pointed viciously toward the surgery center. “And they can’t tell me why. You know that? They don’t know why something in his body makes his own cells attack each other.” He jerked at the t-shirt covering his side. “They can cut a piece of me out and sew it in him, so delicately, so magically, that it starts working as soon as they get it attached. But they can’t tell me why it stopped working when he was a kid, or why this one now…:"

Sterling stood to take Jeff in his arms, but Jeff jerked away with a snarl. “No! Y’all wanna hug on someone, go hug Sam. You wanna help me, you tell me _why_. Why he has had to suffer his entire life just to have the things I take for granted. I’m not upset. I’m not worried. I’m fucking _angry_ , and I just want to hit somebody until they feel as bad as I do,” he panted.

Sterling grabbed the shoulder of Jim’s vest and yanked him forward. “Here!” he bellowed. “Hit this: go ahead Jeff, lay this bastard out.”

Jim tried to wrestle out of Sterling’s iron grip. “Are you _high_ , Sterling?!”

Mark’s jaw was on his precisely knotted cravat. “Bloody hell, Sterling, _you’re_ the sane one!”

Alex stood frozen with his eyes wide. “Oh, Mr. Brown. Mr. Beaver is never going to forgive you!”

“I don’t care!” Sterling said, his body braced, holding Jim pinned in front of a stunned Jeff. “We’ll sell t-shirts to raise money for diabetes research: ‘I KO’d James Norman Beaver!’

Jim jerked and twisted. “Get your fucking hands off me, Sterling!”

Jeff covered his mouth, but a horrified laugh burst out.

“Come on, Jim, this is your chance to do something for your fellow man,” Sterling grunted.

Jim managed to catch Sterling in the solar plexus with an elbow and then whirled around and punched him. “Get off me, you son-of-a-bitch!” 

Jim shook out his hand and clomped back toward the hospital as fast as his boots could take him across the pea gravel pathways. 

Sterling reached up and flexed his jaw. “Jeff, you just missed the chance of a lifetime. Half of Austin and all of Elgin would give their left nut to get one over on Jim Beaver.”

Jeff, Mark, and Alex broke into nervous, exhausted laughter.

“You are a pig from hell,” Jim yelled from the automatic doors.

“Jim, don’t leave,” Jeff cajoled. “Come on, old man.”

Jim’s stiff back disappeared into the hospital lobby. 

Sterling sighed. “I was just kidding, the crusty old son of a bitch.”

“I don’t know,” Jeff said, patting Sterling on the shoulder. “I almost took you up on it.” 

<<<<

_April 17_

_Beaver Home, Woodview Ct, Westlake Hills, TX_

_I'll think of you_

_When the blue bonnets bloom_

_When the blue bonnets bloom_

_I'll think of you_

Jim pulled the brim of his seagrass fedora down to further shade his eyes. From his perch on his front balcony, he scowled indulgently at the rollicking merriment below. Neighborhood children were dressed in short suits and petal colored dresses. Jeff and Samantha were cordoning egg hunt sections by age. Colin, Brock, and Matt were passing out spoons and boiled eggs for the races. A very pregnant Alex ladled lemonade into Dixie Cups, and a very casually dressed Mark grilled hotdogs under Luc’s quietly pleased supervision.

Birdsong rose over the laughter of children, butterflies dotted Jim’s begonias, and bluebells nodded in white vases on every picnic table.

“I hate these stupid neighborhood things,” Jim mumbled into his afternoon mojito.

Steven slowly turned from his slouch against the railing. “You’re the one hosting this ‘stupid’ thing.”

Jim reached down and rubbed Rumsfeld’s exposed belly. “Well, I have to be sociable,” he said. “The Morgans couldn’t do it after the year they’ve had, so…”

Steven leaned back against the railing, his bright blue jacket and jaunty white slacks lending a youthfulness to his handsome but careworn face. “Well, now, it’s been a while since I’ve lived here, but I seem to remember there being, oh, three or four parks around Lake Austin, just perfect for neighborhood egg hunts.”

“May I remind you that you’re also a guest in this house today?” Jim squinted at Steven and then looked back out across the immense lawns. “Give another squirt of lime juice in this, huh?” he asked, pushing his glass across the table top.

Steven smirked but tossed a lime wedge into Jim’s drink, and lifted his own mojito for another cool sip. “Oh, look there,” he nodded. “Isn’t that Jeff’s grandson?”

Jeff leaned forward eagerly and caught sight of Jensen in an apricot suit jacket and jeans leading his now almost two-year-old by the hand. Jim grinned. “Yeah, that’s my little feller.” He waved and called down, “Hey, little Dean!”

Jensen looked up and waved with a grin, but Dean was more interested in chasing balloons.

“This was all very kind of you,” Steven said. He took a seat next to Jim on the iron bench and reached over to squeeze Jim’s knee lightly.

Jim shrugged, slightly abashed. “Well, you know what they say: ‘Spring is the time of plans and projects.’”

Steven nodded and settled closer to Jim. “Tolstoy,” he agreed.

Jim smiled.

<<<<

Jeff held a single forefinger out and smiled as he felt Dean’s tight, slightly sticky grip on it. “You ready, bud?” Jeff asked.

Dean nodded eagerly, and Jeff looked to Samantha. She grinned and blew her whistle, and the one to two year old’s egg hunt began in the shade of a fragrant magnolia. 

“Yeah, that’s it, Dean!” Jeff praised as Dean abandoned his Easter basket and just began to stuff plastic eggs in the pockets of his little denim shorts and floral shirt. “That’s it, you don’t need anything slowing you down! Find that prize egg!”

“You didn’t,” Samantha said with a horrified breath.

“Didn’t what?” Jeff asked, his eyes still on Dean as the sure-footed blond toddler ran back to his basket to dump more eggs.

“The ‘prize egg’?” she said with emphasis.

Jeff looked over at her, thinner than this time last year, but still so lovely in her daffodil yellow.

“What? No!” Jeff said, affronted. “I only put the prize eggs in cow patties for the 10 and up hunts. I’m not a monster, Sam.” He glanced back at Dean, who was eating the gold foil prize egg, foil and all. “Victory!” Jeff yelled, thrusting his arms in the air. Dean beamed a chocolate smeared grin back at his Pop-Pop.

“Quick get a pic – I gotta show the boys,” Jeff said. He picked up Dean and his basket of eggs and turned to face Sam while she readied her phone.

“Where’s Jensen?” she asked. “I thought he didn’t want to miss this.”

Jeff huffed a laugh. “He’s seeing to the Easter Bunny.”

<<<<

“Tell me this,” Jensen gasped as his orgasm shuddered through him, “does _not_ make us furries.”

“No,” Jared gasped, his head thrown back, tendrils of hair still plastered to his cheeks from the Easter Bunny head. “But doing this so close to the Easter Egg Hunt could _definitely_ get us on the sex offender registry.”

Jensen carefully eased Jared’s quivering legs down and pulled his underwear and white, fluffy pants back up to meet the coordinating pink satin vest before adjusting and zipping his own fly. “I made sure to lock the door this time,” Jensen panted. “We’re good.”

“You’re the best,” Jared said as he climbed back into his big pink and white plush feet.

Jensen wrapped his hands in the soft fur at Jared’s sides and tugged him close. “I love you,” he whispered against Jared’s lips. “You’re so fucking hot. Even in a big ass bunny suit with a pink vest and tie.” He kissed Jared again, his hands tangling in Jared’s hair, the air humid on their skin. “But I don’t know how to fix this.”

“What?” Jared jerked back, his eyes wide. “No, we’re good. I feel fantastic…well, sweaty and kinda gross in certain places, but fantastic. And Dean’s with Daddy, and Uncle Jim will never know we were doin’ it in his potting shed if we just sneak out now…”

Jensen nodded to the dirt floor between them. “I don’t know what to do with the condom,” he said with a grimace.

Jared glanced down at the used prophylactic on the dirt floor. “Oh. Ew. Well, that’s not really something the Easter Bunny can help with,” he said, reaching for the large white plush head with the pink silk lined ears and not too terribly insane blue eyes. “Er, toss it in the compost? Lambskin’s biodegradable, I think? And even if Uncle Jim sees it, it’ll just remind him that things are back to normal, right?”

Jared grinned brightly, shoved the bunny head over his sweat-drenched hair and hopped back out toward the Easter party.

Jensen scowled and kicked at the condom with the toe of his loafer. “We have _got_ to start having sex in our own house,” he sighed.

<<<<

“You think those two will ever make up?” Luc asked Mark quietly.

Mark added more dry ice under the platter of salmon ceviche crostini and sighed. He watched as Jim and Rumsfeld made a wide circle around the pond to avoid coming near Sterling at the face painting station.

“It would take an act of a benevolent deity at this point, I’m afraid. I’ve tried, Jeff’s tried, Jared even _cried_ , but Sterling miscalculated. As crusty and miserable as Jim acts, he loves Jared deeply and using him as a point of mockery, even to help Jeff, greatly hurt his pride.”

Luc looked solemnly after Jim’s retreating overalls and then hurried to hand Mark another package of hot dogs.

<<<<

Jensen and Jared swung Dean between them gently, each holding an arm and a leg. Dean squealed with laughter.

“Jared?”

Jared turned to see Alex standing behind him, round as a blueberry in a robin’s egg romper.

“Hey!” Jared grinned. He carefully handed Dean to Jensen and then joined Alex at a picnic table. “How are you feeling?” he asked.

Alex ducked his head, smiling. “Well, you know, enormous.”

Jared rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I remember. At least you got to avoid being pregnant in summer. In Texas. I chafed in places I didn’t know I had.”

Alex, his hair grown out and golden with highlights around his temples, smiled and was lovely. “No shit,” he laughed. “Listen, I wanted to ask you…well, Matt and I did. We know you guys chose a family name for your baby, but neither of us have much family that we’re close to. We were wondering, since it was because of you and Jensen that we met, and after we were all so scared we might lose you last year, would it be okay with you if we named our baby after your family?”

Jared’s eyes, brilliantly blue above the pink Polo he wore, gleamed. “Alex,” he said wonderingly. “That would be absolutely amazing. We’d be tickled pink.” He laughed. “And you know how much I love that.”

Alex’s face split into a wide grin. “Really? Oh, that really makes me happy, Jared.”

“What’s that?” Jensen asked. He had his now somewhat worse-for-wear Burberry bag hooked over his shoulder and his hands busy with baby wipes and a wriggling lapful of sticky Dean.

“Alex just asked if we would mind if he and Matt named their baby after our family,” he said with a huge grin. He looked back at Alex. “I know you kept Calvert when you guys got married, so are you hyphenating for the baby?”

Alex shook his head. “No, the baby’s going to be a Cohen. I have a brother I don’t speak with, but Matt’s the last of his family, at least here in Austin.”

Jared grinned. “So what about the middle name? He’s going to be Jar—”

“Jensen Nicole Cohen,” Alex finished, his face soft and his hand curving over his belly.

“J-Jensen?!” Jared stammered.

“Nicole?” Jensen sputtered.

Alex looked between them, confused. “Well…it’s a girl?”

<<<<

“Everyone, could I have your attention please?”

Mark turned in shock as Luc’s voice rang out from the small bandstand in the gazebo.

“Gather around, please,” Luc said. “I’m not much for public speaking, and I probably only have this in me to say once.”

Everyone drifted closer to the bandstand and looked up at Mark “Luc” Pellegrino, whom most of them only knew by reputation as Mark Sheppard’s occasional Plus One.

Luc’s dark blond hair lifted in the breeze off the lake, and he swallowed nervously as he sought out Mark, Jim, and Sterling in the crowd. “Most of y’all know of my mother’s family, the Bloodgoods, at least from your Texas History classes.” Polite laughter followed. “As one of the last of the line here in Austin, I was raised to live a life independent of most of my family's holdings. I went to college at U.T., became a tax lawyer, and other than inheriting Bloodgood House from my grandfather, Mark and I live relatively middle class lives.”

Jensen propped his elbow on Jared’s shoulder and leaned up to whisper. “Only a corporate tax attorney would calculate $250,000k year, plus capital gains, as ‘middle class.’”

“Right?” Jared huffed. “I prefer to say that we’re ‘comfortable.’ People know what it means without me sounding like an asshole.”

“…and I have been managing that trust for the past 15 years, since the passing of my mother. I would like to announce today that the Bloodgood Family will be donating a total of $25 million dollars to be put into three trusts to benefit the following charities: The Lisa Berry-Brown Leukemia Research Foundation…”

Sterling gasped softly.

“…the Westlake Hills LGBTQ+ Homeless Youth Foundation…”

Alexander blinked hard and clutched Matt’s hand.

“…and the Morgan Institute for Diabetes Research Funding.”

The crowd was stunned silent.

“My only proviso,” Luc continued, “is that the above foundations be chartered, staffed, and overseen by boards of directors chosen by James Beaver and Sterling K. Brown. Thank you all – and God Bless Texas.”

Luc handed the mic back to the children’s party act and jumped down from the bandstand. He strolled by a gobsmacked Mark and dropped a short but loving kiss on his stunned partner’s mouth. “Benevolent enough for you?” he murmured.

<<<<

“You are evil and you must be destroyed. And Mark Pellegrino is an asshole, because he finagled this so that I’ll look like the biggest asshole if I turn this down.”

Sterling looked back at Jim from his lakeside seat for the fireworks.

“I know I owe you an apology,” Sterling said. “I was out of my head that day. I was so afraid of what Jeff might do if they lost Jared. Things were getting entirely too dark…we needed to laugh.”

“At my expense,” Jim said, his eyes on the water barge that was preparing to shoot off the fireworks.

Sterling sighed. “No, just not at Jared’s.”

Jim sat down stiffly next to Sterling on his picnic blanket. “I do love that boy. But you…you’re too twisted for basic cable, Sterling. You’re not the placater everyone thinks you are.”

“I love just as deeply and quietly as you do, Jim,” Sterling said simply.

“Well…” Jim mumbled. “I guess you’re number three. After Jared and Rumsfeld.”

Sterling looked up to the blooming sky and put a companionable arm around Jim’s bony shoulders.

<<<<

Jared sprawled on his back, his head on Jensen’s stomach and their son cuddled between them. Dean’s little fingers pointed to every cascade of the fireworks exploding in the sky and then mirroring in the lake. “BOOM!” he crowed.

There was a sharp pop next to them, and Jared turned to see Mark settling into a director’s chair, a highball of something dark and dangerous cupped in his hand. He glanced down at the Ackles.

“Quite a banner day, wasn’t it?” he asked mildly.

Jared grinned. “It’s been a banner year: I’m not dead, Uncle Jim and Sterling have forged another unholy alliance, Alex is naming his daughter Jensen, and Luc is not just a figment of Jensen’s imagination.”

“What?” Mark huffed.

“Never mind,” Jensen laughed. He cuddled Dean and Jared closer and closed his eyes.

“Look at it all, children,” Mark said, gazing up at the sky. “The stars at night…shining big and bright. And everything finally coming together according to my plan.”

Jared peeked an eye open. “ _Your_ plan? What plan?”

Mark sat back with a contented air. "I'm talking about happy endings for all of us, with all possible entendres intended." 

_Fin_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My brother is a surgical RN, that saved me a lot of research!
> 
> I based Jared's type 1 diabetes on my friend D who was diagnosed after collapsing after playing in a football game when he was 16. He's still healthily living his life at 38.
> 
> The birthing suite/VCR/Star Wars story is true of my childbirth experience. If my spouse did not have a family name that has been passed down for 5 generations, I would have given my son the middle name of Skywalker.
> 
> "Spring is the time of plans and projects" is from 'Anna Karenina' by Leo Tolstoy.
> 
> I grew up in rural Oklahoma. My dad would indeed put the prize egg (usually filled with $20 or so) in the middle of a fresh cow patty (manure).
> 
> The Bloodgoods were one of Texas's Old 300 Families. I just thought the name was perfect.
> 
> The final line, " I'm talking about happy endings for all of us. With all possible entendres intended," is from SPN 6.20 "The Man Who Would Be King."
> 
> Songs Used:  
> "Bluebonnets" by Cross Canadian Ragweed 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed reading this. It was fun to write.


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